


Blood must not have blood

by Baraka_es



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 307 Fix-It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Clexa, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 89,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baraka_es/pseuds/Baraka_es
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titus makes an attempt on Lexa’s life but fails. However, Lexa loses the Flame. The Grounder Council believes the Spirit of the Commander has abandoned Lexa because of her policy of Blood must not have blood. She becomes an outcast at the mercy of the new commander. Nou heda noumou.</p><p>Lexa is forced to flee Polis. </p><p>Now, Lexa's life is in danger and can no longer protect Clarke. They escape Polis but what are their options? Pike is still in Arkadia, ALIE is trying to get more followers and, in all likelihood, Ontari is the new commander. </p><p>And the new Heda wants Lexa and Wanheda dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nou Heda noumou / No longer Commander

“I am leaving. Right now. Octavia is waiting for me. Just let me take Murphy and we’ll go” said Clarke with her hands raised as she stared at the barrel of the gun and the man holding it. Titus had the expression of a zealot. He was beyond reasoning.

“Lexa will never execute her duty if you live”. Titus aimed at Clarke.

“Titus, think. She’s gonna know it was you” argued Clarke.

“She’ll think it was him. Skaikru weapon”, he added showing the gun, “at the hands of a Skaikru thief. She might be angry enough to declare war!”.

Titus started firing the gun and Clarke ran for the door.

Clarke heard the gun jamming and Titus cry as the gun bit into his flesh. But it did not deterred him. He looked for something to hit the Sky girl with. Clarke reached for the door just as Lexa opened it. The Commander saw Titus branding a large candle holder at them as if it were a sword. And she reacted on instinct. She pushed Clarke aside taking the brunt of the blow in her chest.

Lexa gave two steps back. Her face suddenly expressionless. She looked at Titus and then at Clarke.

“Clarke”, she murmured.

Her eyes went blank and she dropped dead at Clarke feet.

“No, no, no, no” Clarke grabbed her breaking her fall.

Titus stood frozen in place. “Heda”, he murmured with the candle holder still in his hands.

Clarke deposited Lexa on the floor and checked her. She wasn’t breathing. A wave of anxiety and dread started to grip her mind, to numb her. She maneuvered Lexa’s body so she rested on her back and put her ear to Lexa’s chest. She listened. And prayed.

“Her heart stopped” she said to no one.

“Have to take her to the bed”, said Titus.

He let go of the candle holder and he started to kneel down next to Lexa.

Clarke stopped him. “No! It’s better here”. Clarke rose on her knees and extended her arms, interlacing her hands. She started to give CPR. She started muttering, counting the times she compressed Lexa’s chest in an effort to bring her back. She tried to reign in the wave of rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

“She is dead” said Titus.

Clarke killed him with one look. “No! I don’t accept that! Her heart just stopped. She is not dead! I can bring her back!”

Clarke fought the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. It could not be happening. Not now. No after everything they had gone through. She kept the CPR but she knew that after a blow like that Lexa needed something else to restart her heart. She started looking around her.

Titus’ demeanor suddenly changed. He was eerily calm. He knelt at the other side of Lexa and produced a small redish satchel from within his robes. He deposited it next to him.

In her search, Clarke noticed a small bundle of things that did not belong to the Grounders right where Titus had been hiding. A metallic object got her attention. An electric baton. Like the ones security used in the Ark. Like the one her mother used on Lincoln when…

“Titus!”. The man opened the satchel with reverence. “Titus, listen to me! I can bring her back. I need the baton. The metallic stick that’s over there!” Clarke said gesturing with her head towards the metallic object.

Titus stopped for a second, unwilling to listen to the woman who he believed was guilty of clouding the Commander’s judgement. Of making her weak.

Clarke knew she was running out of time. After a blow to the chest like that CPR was not enough. She jumped to her feet and run for the bundle. When she turned around her blood froze in her veins. Titus had cut Lexa in her forearm. Enough to draw blood. He was painting a thick line that went from the top of his head down his forehead to between his eyebrows. A black line. Lexa’s blood. Clarke had had enough of the guy.

“Get away from her or I swear to you Grounders will find out why they call me Wanheda” Clarked said. Her tone of voice carried all the weigh her words hinted.

Titus looked at her. He despised the idea of violating the Commander’s body any further. He was doing his job as a Flamekeeper. Much as it pained him. He had a duty to fulfill. An obligation to the next Commander. But Wanheda… Titus backed up a step.

Clarke wasted no time. In a couple of strides she stood next to Lexa’s unresponsive body. She extended the baton and in a swift movement she directed it towards Lexa’s chest and pressed the button.

The baton sparked with electricity jolting Lexa’s body off the floor.

Titus reeled back in surprise.

Clarked knelt down and pressed her ear to Lexa’s chest. And listened. It could not end like this. She refused to let it end like this. She thought she heard the faintest of gasps but it could have been the body reacting to the electrical discharge. No change. Still no heartbeat. Lexa was deathly white. She was running out of time.

She squared her shoulders and hit Lexa again. The Commander’s body lifted off the floor for a second once more before collapsing again. Only this time, Clarke heard an intake of breath, albeit weak.

She stopped with the baton still raised above her head, ready to strike again if she had to, and watched Lexa’s face.

Lexa’s eyes fluttered. Her chest heaved once, then rose and fell again. Her breathing slowly returning to normal. She even began to recover some of her color. Her lips were half opened and they moved. She was muttering something.

Clarke started sobbing. She dropped the baton and hovered over Lexa, silently willing her to open her incredible green eyes.

“Hey… hey. It’s okay” said Clarke in between sobs. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Lexa turned her head towards Clarke’s voice and opened her eyes. Her expression was pained, her eyes cloudy. She was trying to say something. Clarke got closer to her.

“Hurts” Lexa gasped.

Clarke could not help smiling and chuckled. “Yes, I know. I am sorry. You’re gonna be okay, Lexa”. She caressed Lexa’s cheek and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Seeing Lexa respond gave Clarke all the energy she needed.

She looked up at Titus. Her expression stern, controlled. “Help me get her to bed. And then you will free my friend”. Her tone of voice brooked no arguments.

It took Titus a second before his body could react. He didn’t know what Lexa’s recovery would mean. But she was alive and that was enough for him. For now. He kneeled down and picked Lexa in his arms, carrying her to Clarke’s bed and depositing her with the utmost care.

Clarked pushed him aside and began to explore Lexa looking for injuries. She was aware of Titus moving over to Murphy and releasing him.

The young man stood up but remained still, debating whether he should run away to who knows where or help Clarke with whatever was going on. If she could keep Crazy Guy under control, he was all up for it. He was fed up with visionaries. He decided to check the bundle that was at the other side of the room but then he saw the jammed gun lying close to the bundle. He made a beeline for it.

As Clarke proceeded to examine Lexa, her worries lessened. There was nothing broken, no signs of internal injuries, no cuts aside from the one in Lexa’s left forearm. She was aware of Lexa studying her. Following her every move. Clarke raised her head to look at her and smiled. The brunette answered with a smile of her own.

“You scared the hell out of me” Clarke whispered.

“It was not my intention” said the Commander with a slight smirk.

Clarke looked at her and then focused her attention in the cut to the forearm. “It’s not too deep. I can stitch it up.”

Lexa gave a slight nod in response. Clarke not even bothered to ask her if she wanted to use herbs to help with the pain. Not after seeing her fight with Roan.

A sudden loud gasp of pain got her attention. She looked at Lexa. The woman had a grimace of pain and began to breath hard. All her limbs suddenly tensed up. Almost to the point of breaking. A seizure?

“What is it?” she asked. She was positive she hadn’t missed anything. But then again, she was no doctor. Not like her mother.

Lexa closed her eyes trying to deal with the searing pain that extended throughout her body. She clenched her teeth. Her body was completely rigid.

“The neck… It burns. It burns” she said gasping.

Clarke did not want to contemplate the possibility of a neck injury that would leave the Commander bedridden for the rest of her life. She had clearly missed something. But what?

Her fingers reached the back of Lexa’s neck and started to traced the skin. Looking for any protuberances that could indicate a lesion to the vertebrae. She opened her eyes in surprise when her fingers noted a small lump in the back of Lexa’s neck. A lump that wasn’t there when they had made love not a couple of hours ago. But it didn’t feel like a bone fracture. What the fuck was going on?

“What is this?” said Clark out loud. Her fingers were tracing the lump that seem to move beneath the skin.

Titus approached the bed tentatively.

Clarke was too worried to say anything. “May I?” asked Titus.

Clarked looked at him. He looked beyond worried. There was no trace of the anger and zealotry that had clouded his eyes before. She gave him a subtle nod.

Titus looked at Lexa. It was the first time they looked at one another.

“Heda?” Lexa nodded.

With loving care, Titus traced the contour of Lexa’s neck. His brow burrowed in concentration. He touched the lump at the back of her neck. He dropped his head in consternation. The weight of the world had suddenly been thrusted upon his shoulders.

Clarke watched nervously. “What is going on?”

Titus exhaled softly. He had a pained expression. He looked at Lexa in the eye. “It’s the Commander’s spirit, Heda”.

Lexa looked at him. Understanding dawning in her eyes. “You know what to do… Flamekeeper”.

Titus gave a slight nod, stood tall and went to retrieve his satchel.

Clarke looked at him and then at Lexa. What was going on?

Lexa gave her a small smile. Her body was rigid, in pain. Her breathing was getting more labored. It could not be from the small cut in the forearm. Had Titus poisoned her? A sudden gasp made her look back at Lexa. She began to cry.

“Lexa, _beja_ ” she begged. “

Shhh… Don’t be afraid, Clarke” whispered Lexa. It was getting increasingly difficult to talk. It was too painful.

Titus returned and extended the satchel on the bed. Clarke saw the Grounder’s version of several scalpels and a small box, its color weathered by the passing of time. Titus looked once more at Lexa waiting for permission.

“ _Dula yu job op. Badan neson-de op kom we yu don badan ai op, Fleimkepa_ ”

Titus nodded and then he rolled Lexa until she was face down on the bed.

Clarke protested. “Hey… what are you—?

Titus looked sternly at her. “The Commander’s spirit has rejected Lexa”.

Clarke did not understand. The Commander’s spirit was in the back of Lexa’s neck?

Titus saw her incredulity. “If I don’t do this, the spirit will kill Lexa”

Clarke could not understand. But Lexa seemed to trust him. She had given him permission. Clarke gulped and nodded. Murphy came behind Clarke and watched.

Titus grabbed a small scalpel and pushed aside Lexa’s hair from the back of her neck. He held her neck with a strong hand and with a steady pulse made a cut, not too deep, into her skin. Lexa grunted in pain.

A small piece of metal emerged from Lexa’s neck and seemed to support itself on a web of thin blackish tendrils. Titus picked up the object with his fingers. The tendrils detached themselves from Lexa’s body and began to retract and disappear into the small metallic piece.

“What is that?” asked Clarke with a feeling between curiosity and disgust.

Murphy saw the symbol and put the pieces together.

“It’s an AI” murmured.

Titus held the object between his fingers with reverence. His face showed determination. He was the Flamekeeper. He had a duty to fulfill.

“Wrong. It’s the spirit of the Commander” he announced.

He placed the AI inside the box and closed it. He put it inside his robes.

Clarke saw the gash and grabbed a piece of cloth. She tore it to make bandages.

Titus picked up his satchel, went to the door and opened it. “ _Nou Heda noumou. Teik Sadgeda stot au_ ” announced with a solemn voice that echoed into the halls. The Conclave had been summoned.

As soon as he closed the doors behind him, Murphy reacted. He bolted towards the doors only to find them locked from the outside. He exhaled exasperated. He had spent most of the time on Earth locked down somewhere.

Clarke looked at Lexa. She seemed to have passed out. And it worried her. She looked around her. Her bag had to be somewhere. She carried a small medic kit with her. She hadn’t spent those months in the wilderness without learning a thing or two.

“Murphy! Murphy, my bag. You see it?” asked Clarke. She looked at him. She needed to make him react. “Murphy, please. It’s a small bag. Brown leather.”

Murphy put the gun in the back of his pants and looked for the bag.

Clarke bend over Lexa.

“Hey… stay with me, ok?” she said with a tremor in her voice.

Lexa’s body had relaxed. She had her eyes closed and was breathing normally. Clarke was worried about any other effects the removal of that AI could have had on the Commander but first she needed to attend to that cut.

Murphy dropped the bag onto the bed. Clarke immediately rummaged inside and found what she needed. She began to stitch the wound. If Lexa had passed out, she wouldn’t feel the needle and the thread. Once she was finished, she applied an algae salve that would prevent infections and protected the area with a bandage. With Murphy’s help, she turned Lexa around. She then stitched the cut in the forearm.

The woman was unconscious. Her features were relaxed which made her look like the young woman she was and not like the Commander of the Twelve Clans she had been. Clarke had only seen her like this once. When Lexa fell asleep after they had made love. She smiled at those memories.

She held one of Lexa’s hands and caressed her knuckles with her thumb. She knew Murphy was waiting for her to say something.

“Thanks” she murmured. She lift her gaze to look at her friend.

Murphy gave her a lopsided smile. “Obviously, I’ve missed a lot “ he said gesturing towards Lexa. Clarke smiled softly. “Now what?” he asked.

Clarke looked at him. She hadn’t thought about that. She noticed the multiple cuts and bruises that covered his face and probably the rest of his body. She placed a soft kiss on Lexa’s lips, covered her with a fur and got up from the bed.

“Now, I’ll take care of those wounds and then we’ll wait. We’ll think of something”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beja.  
> Please.
> 
> Dula yu job op. Badan neson-de op kom we yu don badan ai op, Fleimkep.  
> Do your job. Serve the next as you have served me, Fleimkepa
> 
> Nou Heda noumou. Teik Sadgeda stot au.  
> Commander no longer.Let the Conclave begin


	2. Lexa's fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council of the Grounders meet to decide the fate of Lexa and the Skaikru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered having all the dialogue in Trigadesleng. But I thought it would make the reading cumbersome so, except for a few words, it is all in English.
> 
> If you spot a spelling mistake or any other incorrection, please, let me know. I want to improve.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

“Please, escort them to the common house. Have them ready for tomorrow” instructed Titus to one of the guards.  
  
The guard nodded and made a gesture to the group of nervous Natblidas to follow him. The first one to move was Aden. The last one, Ontari. As she walked past the Azgeda seat, she met Roan’s eyes for a second before following her peers. The group abandoned the throne room accompanied by two other guards. They would be under the their protection until the Rite of Ascension.  
  
Titus watched them leave and squared his shoulders. As soon as the doors slammed shut, the ambassadors started to murmur. Titus stood next to the throne, at his usual place. The only one who got to sit on the throne would be chosen in the Rite of Ascension. Until then, no one would sit on it.  
  
“What of Lexa?” growled the Delfikru ambassador, voicing what all them were thinking.  
  
The ambassadors started talking all at once. Titus watched them. Vultures circling around an easy prey. Waiting to strike.  
  
Roan stepped forward and neared the throne. So close that Titus thought he was going to dare to sit on it.  
  
“I say the Commander’s spirit abandoned her. She brought it upon herself. She became weak” stated Roan addressing the entire room. “A mistake the Azgeda will never make. We do not recognize the so called thirteenth clan. I say we wipe them out. Blood must have blood”.  
  
“That is a decision to be made by the next Commander, King Roan” stated Titus with as much calm as he could muster. He did not want to antagonize him but decisions such as that would have to wait till after the Rite.  
  
Roan gave him one of his predatory smiles.  
  
“My apologies, Flamekeeper. Perhaps we should discuss the fate of Lexa instead? She should be punished to death. That is what would have happened if Wanheda had not intervened” he said.  
  
“King Roan is right. Lexa is weak. Wanheda made her weak. She could not defeat the maunon. Wanheda did. She did not kill the Mountain Slayer when she had the chance and instead she allowed her to live in Polis. Her punishment should be death. That was what the Commander’s spirit had decided” argued the Delphi ambassador.  
  
Titus raised his hands trying to placate the growing murmurs of assent that spread around the throne room. Titus swallowed hard. He was about to repeat himself when another voice interrupted them.  
  
“The Floukru vote for recognizing Lexa’s legacy” said their ambassador. A middle-aged woman.  
  
“She was weak! _Leksa gonplei ste odon_ ” added another ambassador.  
  
“She was the only Commander who was capable of uniting all twelve clans under the Coalition” argued the woman. “A feat no other Commander, Azgeda or not”, she said looking pointedly at Roan, “had ever achieved. She was responsible for the fall of Mount Weather”.  
  
“And then she let Wanheda kill the _maunon_ … by herself. Lexa walked away” argued another ambassador. “She was weak”.  
  
“She put her people first. She agreed to a deal that ensured the safety of her people. I believe your grandson was being held in the mountain, was he not?” shot back the Floukru ambassador.  
  
“Wanheda made her weak” said a fourth ambassador in a sour tone of voice. “She showed no honor, no strength, by allowing Wanheda to live. She allowed the Skaikru to go unharmed after they killed three hundred of our warriors. Sent them there to protect them and the Skaikru slaughtered them! _Leksa gonplei ste odon_ ”.  
  
The rest of the ambassadors raised their voices to the debate. The vast majority were in favor of killing Lexa. The Azgeda had played their cards well. Roan observed Titus with a barely repressed satisfied smirk.  
  
Titus raised his hands to demand silence. The shouting continued in the room.  
  
“ _Em plen_ i!” Titus tried to regain control of the situation. “I agree that the coming of the Rite of Ascension is unusual”. Titus heard Roan scoff. He looked at him and continued. “But as Flamekeeper it is my duty to carry out the preparations and to make sure no decisions are made until a new Commander is chosen. It is our way” he emphasized.  
  
Some of the ambassadors seemed to accept his words. Though a few continued to murmur in dissent.  
  
“Tomorrow night, the new Commander will make the decision after hearing what the Council has to say about these matters. The wait will not be long” Titus said with a finality. “Now, please, let me do my job”.  
  
“Where are they?” asked the Delfikru ambassador.  
  
“They are being held in the guests quarters. They will remain there until the new Commander decides what to do”.  
  
Some of the ambassadors shook their heads in disagreement. Lexa should be in a holding cell. But they finally accepted his words and began to leave the room. The Floukru ambassador eyed Roan who stood still near the throne. She then looked at Titus, gave him a curt nod and left.   
  
When the doors closed, Roan walked up to Titus and looked him in the eye.  
  
“I hope you know where your loyalties are, _Fleimkepa_ ” said Roan with a low menacing tone. “It would be very sad to have to call in for a new one after outliving the last four Commanders”.  
  
Titus held his stare. He did not back down.  
  
Roan smiled once more and walked out.  
  
Titus looked at the closed doors. Lexa may have been weak but she was smart, cunning, intelligent. They would all be so lucky if the next commander had half her talents.


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke find an unlikely friend.

Clarke had tried to absorb everything Murphy had told her. The implications were so far reaching that she had trouble grasping the concept. It changed everything. An AI that almost succeeded in eradicating humankind from the face of the Earth because there were too many people and now wanted to welcome them to the fold under her terms and conditions. And Jaha’s role in all of this. Polaris. The thirteenth station. Everyone knew about the thirteenth station. That is why they celebrated Unity Day. As a remembrance. The symbol of the Commander was the symbol of the artificial intelligence. A symbol the Grounders worshiped, considered holy.  
  
She shook her heard. The sun had set a while ago. Guards had brought them food and medical supplies for Lexa. Their only visit. No one had entered their quarters since. She knew guards were posted outside the doors. She wasn’t sure if they were there as jailers or protectors. She had the feeling that everything was coming apart. Again.  
  
She left the balcony and entered the room. Murphy was sleeping in a cot at the opposite side from where her bed was. He had insisted on leaving at first, of using the gun or the baton to make way. Not caring for anyone but his own skin. A look from the balcony convinced him he stood no chance at all of getting out of Polis by himself.  
  
Clarke looked at Lexa and smiled. She was resting comfortably on the bed. She would have to check the stitches, see if there was any bleeding or swelling. She approached the bed and sat next to Lexa. It had been too close. She held Lexa’s hand, felt the soft skin under her fingers, the calluses in her palm, and blushed remembering how Lexa’s hands felt on her body. What they did to her.  
  
“You are smiling”  
  
Clarke looked up startled. Lexa was looking at her with sleepy eyes.  
  
“Hey. How you feel?” asked Clarke happy to see her finally awake.  
  
“I am fine”.  
  
Lexa attempted to sit up, biting back a groan. She managed to swing her legs over the bed and sit straight. She felt her neck stiff but that was to be expected. Her chest however hurt. Getting up had been painful. She massaged her chest trying to alleviate the pain somehow. Clarke watched her closely.  
  
“You will have one hell of a bruise but the good news it that there are no broken ribs” informed Clarke.  
  
Lexa nodded trying to take note of all the pains and hurts her body was complaining about. She had seen and felt much worse. Her chest was the worst. But she could tolerate it well.  
  
“Did you peek Clarke?” teased Lexa with a smirk.  
  
Clarke smiled and blushed.  
  
“Let me check the stitches” she said still smiling trying to compose herself. Damn that woman could do a number on her with just a smirk. “And it wasn’t like that” she clarified.  
  
Lexa remained still while Clarke sat again next to her. She pulled Lexa’s hair aside from the nape of her neck and removed the bandage to check the stitches. She caressed the skin surrounding the cut, feeling for warmer areas or any sign of swelling.  
  
Lexa was trying very hard not to moan. Having Clarke so close was enough by itself but having her caress her neck the way she was doing it, with such care, so delicately, so… She could feel the tip of her fingers as they roamed her neck. She swallowed hard but her skin betrayed her. She could feel her skin breaking into goosebumps. A barely controlled shiver ran through her body.  
  
Clarke smiled. The stitches were just fine. It had only taken her a look to know that but she was taking an inordinately amount of time touching her. She felt more than heard a soft gasp from Lexa. Saw the goosebumps in her neck. Noticed the slight shiver. And remembered what it felt to caress her entire body, to draw lazy patterns with her fingers followed by her lips, memorizing every inch of her body. Because that was all she could have hoped for.  
  
Clarke got up and knelt in front of Lexa, drinking her in. She noticed the young woman’s pupils were a dark shade of green, her mouth half opened, her eyes fixed on her, breathing hard. And then Lexa wet her lips with her tongue.  
  
Clarke rose enough to kiss her, tenderly, tentatively. Reacquainting herself with Lexa’s lips, soft, pliant, warm. Lexa welcomed her in, deepening the kiss. Tongues meeting each other, caressing, stroking, igniting a fire neither of them wanted to end. Clarke moaned in Lexa’s mouth. Or had it been Lexa? She didn’t care. All she wanted to feel was those lips on hers. Lexa’s hands on her body, owning her, claiming her. She rose further and straddled Lexa, mindful of her injuries.  
  
Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke bringing their bodies closer. Their kisses turned hungry. She tightened her embrace. A sudden flash of pain in her chest made her stop dead on her tracks.  
  
Clarke stood up with a worried expression on her face.  
  
“Damn, I am sorry. Are you okay, Lexa?” she asked still gasping. She sat next to her and rubbed her back, watching her closely. “I am sorry”.  
  
Lexa was massaging her chest again in circular motions. She was breathing through her nose, fighting the pain. A moment later she nodded.  
  
“I am well” she said.  
  
“I guess we’ll have to wait a bit before doing anything more…” said Clarke. She felt bad. She had forgotten about everything for a second there.  
  
“Yes” answered Lexa with a soft smile. She leaned in to give Clarke a soft reassuring kiss.  
  
Voices came from the hallway. Clarke stood up. A knock sounded on the door. Lexa stood up slowly.  
  
“Enter” she said.  
  
The doors opened and Titus came in. The doors closing immediately after him.  
  
Lexa stood tall, in her full commanding persona, with her hands laced behind her back. Clarke had step closer to her. She had a determined expression on her face.  
  
Titus gave them a small nod. He could not help but notice they made a powerful couple. The Commander’s spirit may have abandoned Lexa but her posture, her entire demeanor, said she was every bit the commander. Clarke stood next to her, eyeing Titus with barely contained contempt. He could not blame her. Not really. He had failed Lexa.  
  
“What is it, Titus?” asked Lexa.  
  
Titus gave two steps towards Lexa until he saw Clarke tensing her entire body, ready to defend Lexa if need be. He stopped on his tracks.  
  
“The Conclave has been summoned. The Rite of Ascension will take place tomorrow night” he informed.  
  
Lexa nodded but gave nothing away.  
  
“I, uh…” He gave another step and Clarke immediately stepped in, blocking him.  
  
“Clarke” whispered Lexa. Clarke turned to look at her. She relaxed somewhat and went to stand next to Lexa. But if he so much looked at her the wrong way…  
  
“I did not intend for any of this to happen” he started.  
  
“No, you just wanted to kill me so Lexa would declare war. No intention whatsoever” spat Clarke angrily.  
  
Lexa watched Titus closely.  
  
“He did what he thought was right for our people, Clarke. However wrong that turned out to be” she said.  
  
“How can you—?” began to say Clarke.  
  
“What is done is done. It can not be unchanged. We have to move from here” said Lexa with determination.  
  
Titus nodded. He had taught her well. She had been the most outstanding _Natblida_. The best of the Commanders he had counseled.  
  
“The ambassadors?” asked Lexa.  
  
Titus cleared his throat.  
  
“The Azgeda are pressuring the Council” said in a message that only Lexa would understand.  
  
Lexa looked at him. She expected that. It was the most logical course of action. She would have done the same thing in their place.  
  
“How long?” she asked.  
  
“Until the Rite of Ascension. No more”  
  
Clarke looked to and from Titus and Lexa.  
  
“The Council is pushing for my death” explained Lexa to Clarke.  
  
“What!? How can—?” sputtered Clarke befuddled. “She brought the twelve clans together, she defeated Roan and killed Queen Nia, she brought peace. Without her we couldn’t have come even close to Mount Weather and defeated them” said to Titus.  
  
“You defeated Mount Weather, Clarke” said Lexa. “The Skaikru did”.  
  
“That’s not the point” she tried to argue.  
  
“The point is the council thinks I am weak. They are making the logical choice. And I am a threat to the next commander’s leadership” said Lexa looking at Titus straight in the eyes.  
  
Titus nodded.  
  
“But Aden…” began Clarke.  
  
“Ontari is also a _Natblida_. Although I have faith in Aden, it is possible Ontari may succeed me as Commander”.  
  
“The Azgeda are making all the moves to gather the support from all the ambassadors. Even if Aden wins, it could not be long before another conclave has to be summoned” Titus said ominously.  
  
“The Coalition is breaking” said Lexa in a somber tone. Everything she had fought for, all her sacrifice, her pain, her loneliness, for nothing. In all likelihood, the blood-must-not-have-blood policy she had enforced would not survive the upcoming Rite of Ascension. Not if Aden didn’t make it.  
  
Titus opened his mouth but then closed it.  
  
“Speak, Titus” commanded Lexa.  
  
Titus looked between Clarke and Lexa. He owed it to Lexa.  
  
“I can get you out of Polis. I will have two horses for you near the tunnels, waiting for you. I need time to organize it, though” he said.  
  
Clarke could not believe it.  
  
“How can we trust you, Titus? You tortured Murphy, tried to kill me and almost killed Lexa. How do we know you’re not setting us up?” asked Clarke in a belligerent tone.  
  
Lexa watched him carefully. His demeanor was poised but his eyes betrayed the affection he still felt for her. Despite everything, she felt she could trust him. At least one last time.  
  
“Very well. But I need for you to send a rider with a message to the Floukru” said Lexa.  
  
“I will send one of my best riders”  
  
Clarked wasn’t happy with Lexa’s decision but decided to keep silent. She trusted her judgement.  
  
Titus’s features softened.  
  
“I am sorry, Lexa” he said in a quiet tone.  
  
Lexa relaxed her posture. “Me too, Titus” she whispered. “Do not make the same mistake. Even if you don’t agree, respect the next commander”.  
  
Titus nodded.  
  
“I will send for you when I have everything ready. The guards are the doors serve me and only me”, he turned to leave and then stopped. “You will be safe”.  
  
Lexa nodded. Titus left the quarters closing the doors behind him.  
  
As soon as he left, Lexa sat down exhausted, with a grimace of pain on her face.  
  
Clarke sat down next to her and rubbed her back.  
  
“You are in no shape to ride, Lexa” she said quietly.  
  
“We have to leave Polis. I cannot longer protect you here, Clarke” Lexa said. “We have to leave as soon as Titus gives the word”.  
  
“Then I guess you should get some rest” Clarke said with a smile. Lexa nodded and gave her one of her smiles. The one that left all Clarke’s insides melting.  
  
Clarke leaned in and kissed her. Lexa happily returned the kiss. Until a rumbling sound interrupted them. They both looked down. Lexa blushed furiously and Clarke chuckled.  
  
“But first lets feed that beast” Clarke said.  
  
She went over to the table to fetch the tray of food when she noticed that Murphy was staring at her from his cot. She had thought he had slept through the entire conversation.  
  
He stared at her for a moment, not saying anything and then he just turned around and went to sleep.  
  
Clarke returned to the bed and set the tray between the two of them.  
  
“Now, eat” she told Lexa.


	4. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ontari kills the Natblidas, Azgeda warriors atempt to break into Clarke'room. Lexa, Clarke and Murphy don't have much time to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. Life got in between and then I decided to plot the entire story arc. It is going to be a long ride. I hope you like it.
> 
> I favor quality vs fast.

Lexa remained still, content having Clarke in her arms. The young woman was sleeping soundly. Her head resting on her shoulder and her left arm lying across her stomach in a possessive gesture. She kissed Clarke’s head softly. The stitches in the nape of her neck pulled taught. Lexa sighed. She took stock of her body. Except for the stitches and a sore chest, she felt good.   
  
She went over the events in the last twelve hours and the implications. She was no longer commander. She didn’t know how she had to feel about that. She was worried. The Conclave would begin tomorrow. She had made the Natblidas vow to protect the Skaikru, to protect Clarke, should anything happen to her. But with Ontari. Ontari would not hesitate to massacre the Skypeople. Nia had taught her from the start. She did not know the pillars of being a commander. Compassion, wisdom, strength. Values she had grown up with and had tried to pass on to the young Natblidas. Ontari did not understand what that role demanded. She probably didn’t care. If Ontari was successful... Lexa knew of one who could contest Ontari as Commander. But she would have to be very convincing to talk to her into stepping up. It all depended on whether or not the Spirit chose Ontari. If it did choose her…   
  
Lexa sighed. If the Spirit chose Ontari. She looked down at Clarke. No one would be safe. Not the Skaikru not her people. Azgeda would overrun all the clans, would force them into submission. And that meant one thing: war.  
  
She could not allow that. She had to talk to her. How long had it been? Six years? Maybe now she could convince her.  
  
Lexa realized she’d been caressing Clarke’s hair. She smiled softly. She would have never imagined someone could break all her walls in such a short time. No wonder Titus had freaked out. The almighty Commander of the Twelve Clans brought down to her knees, willingly. The thought brought a smile to her lips. She had never felt so… content. No, that was not the word. Happy maybe? She was afraid to even think about it. She had spent all her life thinking that she was not allowed to be happy, to be in love. Costia’s death had been a painful remainder of what she could loose. She thought she would never get over it. The pain almost killed her. Titus droning mantra that love was weakness hit home. And she repeated it to herself every single day. She closed off. Erected walls so high no one would ever be able to bring them down. Until Clarke came along.  
  
Lexa remembered the first time they met. She saw right through Clarke. Saw her fear. Her insecurity she was trying so hard to hide. But there was a lot more than that. She did not back down. She saw a woman who, despite her fears, stood up to her. She saw her strength and her wisdom. She knew her people could not hold for long against the Lexa’s army and tried to reach an agreement with Lexa. Her offer of working together to free both their people, of turning reapers back into men was definitely a good offer. They had lost so many good people to the Mountain Men. Lexa had felt immediately drawn to her. And when Clarke begged for the boy’s life and then killed him to save him from a long death, Lexa saw her compassion. A natural born leader. Just like she was. But Clarke still carried her emotions too close to the surface. And that was dangerous. If people could read you, you left yourself exposed. And that was something she could never allow. But Clarke had no trouble whatsoever reading her. And she was more than okay with it. She kissed the top of Clarke’s head, smiling. Yep. More than okay. She could definitely get used to Clarke sleeping in her arms.  
  
She shifted uncomfortable. They had gone to sleep with their clothes on, not knowing when Titus would give the word to escape. Fortunately for her, she had gotten her commander’s clothing back. They had everything ready. Now they had to wait.     
  
A distant noise caught her attention. It came from somewhere in the hallways. She had been listening to the guards right outside their quarters for a while now waiting for the signal. Being the commander had taught her to always be alert. It wouldn’t be the first time a commander had been assassinated in their sleep. The noise got a bit louder. Footsteps. Maybe Titus had ordered a change of guards. Maybe…  
  
Lexa silently nudged Clarke awake. Clarke raised her head blinking sleepily.   
  
“Trouble” She murmured to Clarke.  
  
Clarke recognized Lexa’s expression and nodded. Both women got up from bed. Clarke went over to Murphy. She covered his mouth with his hand. The young man jerked awake. Clarke took a finger to her lips. Murphy nodded in understanding. He so wanted to get out of that place.  
  
Clarke returned to Lexa standing to one side of the double doors. She step in front of the door, took out her gun and got ready. Murphy had the shock baton in his hand.  
  
A quiet scuffle broke in the hallway. Lexa tensed her body. Maybe Titus had failed. They heard a groan and the thump of a body hitting the floor. Lexa looked at Clarke. The young woman was pointing the gun at the door with an expression of determination on her face.   
  
Clarke knew shooting was not a good idea. But if they wanted Lexa dead, they had another thing coming.  
  
The doors burst open and two Grounders stepped in. Clarke aimed the gun at them. Lexa stepped in from behind one of them and grabbed him in a choke hold. The man did not resist at all. Both Grounders raised their hands in a peaceful gesture.  
  
“Heda,” the Grounder choked in Heda's hold.  
  
Upon hearing him calling her by her former title, Lexa released him. Both men turned to her and bowed their heads.   
  
Clarke however kept her gun aimed at them. Clarke didn’t know if they could trust them.  
  
“Azgeda. There is no time, Heda. They’re heading this way.” The Grounder gave a nod to someone outside their quarters. A moment later, a third Grounder entered carrying Lexa’s sword. “Fleimkepa asked me to give you your sword back.”  
  
Lexa recognized the man. She had seen him plenty of times with Titus. A man of his trust. Lexa, already in Commander mode, nodded slightly and took the sword. She looked at the men who awaited her reaction.  
  
“Argus, right?” Lexa asked addressing the leader.  
  
“Sha, Heda.” The man answered with a firm nod. “We will protect you. Follow us.”  
  
Lexa looked at Clarke. “We go.”  
  
Clarke nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Murphy eyed wearily at the Grounders. Lexa left the room with them. He noticed Clarke was looking at him.  
  
“Bossy girlfriend you have” Murphy said.  
  
“Let’s go, Murphy” Clarke glared at him.  
  
“What? Don’t I get to say anything?”  
  
Clarke didn’t bother to answer him. She just followed Lexa into the corridor.  
  
An Azgeda Grounder lied faced down on the floor a few yards from the doors. A knife was sticking out of his back. A hand extracted the knife which was stained in blood. Clarke followed the movement with her eyes. A female Grounder, Trikru probably, cleaned the knife in the Azgeda´s clothes, sheathed the knife and looked at her. She gave her a small nod.   
  
“Clarke, with me” Lexa said.  
  
Clarke turned around. Lexa was waiting for her. She walked  towards her. Murphy following them.  
  
  
  
  
They advanced through the corridors. Argus and another Grounder in front and another two in the rear. They moved in silence. Clarke noticed that there was barely any security in the corridors. It was as if they had cleared the way for them.  
  
They reached the elevators. Two Grounders were disposing of two Azgeda warriors, taking away their bodies.  
  
Argus and Lexa stepped into the elevator. Clarke followed. But Murphy stayed behind, uncertain.  
  
“Would you rather use the stairs?” Lexa asked him.  
  
Murphy got in the elevator. A second Grounder got in with them, closing the door behind them. As they started their descent, Murphy saw the other two Grounders staying behind, guarding the elevator.  
  
It felt like it took forever to reach to the ground floor. From there, they were led towards a service area. They turned a corner and met two other Grounders who held a large rundown cabinet open. Argus went right through it along with another Grounder. Lexa looked at the other two Grounders who stood by the cabinet.  
  
“Heda.” One of the Grounders saluted her.   
  
Lexa gave them a curt nod. She then turned to look at Clarke and Murphy.  
  
“We’ll go through the tunnels. Stay close. Azgeda may be in there too.”  
  
Lexa was about to enter when a distant horn was heard. She froze in place. She had immediately recognized the sound.  
  
“The Victory Horn” Lexa murmured.  
  
“What is it?” Clarked asked her.  
  
Lexa looked at her. “A Natblida has won.” She closed her eyes and took a second to absorb the news. The Conclave wasn’t supposed to start until that night. It was still hours away. It was nearly dawn.  
  
“Wasn’t the Conclave supposed to be tonight?” Murphy asked puzzled.  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Maybe Aden has won, Lexa. We have to find out.” Clarke said.  
  
Lexa tried to swallow the lump in her throat. The Conclave was hard, ruthless. But there were rules. Strict rules. The Natblidas would have respected the Conclave. They would have waited until the Fleimkepa said it was time. They all would have. All but one. She noticed Clarke was looking intently at her. Lexa closed off her expression. “They are all dead. We have to go. Now.”  
  
“Lexa…” Clarke called after her but the woman had already entered the tunnels, sword in hand.  
  
Murphy followed her.  
  
Clarke looked at the two Grounders that remained with her.  One of them gestured with her head towards the tunnel. Clarke entered. The Grounders closed the cabinet after them.  
  
It took a few moments for Clarke to get used to the relative darkness. The tunnels were not in complete darkness. A soft glow seemed to come from some kind of iridescent moss. She hurried to catch up with Lexa.  
  
Argus and another Grounder were leading. Their swords drawn. Their bodies tensed in anticipation.   
  
Lexa walked beside Clarke. Her expression was still closed off but Clarke saw her jaw clenching. A movement she had come to recognize. Lexa kept her gaze focused just ahead of them. Her shoulders tense.  
  
Clarke looked over her shoulder. Murphy walked right behind them, shock baton in hand, and the two Grounders followed in the rear.   
  
After a few turns, Clarke had lost her sense of orientation. But Argus seemed to know exactly where they were heading. They kept a fast pace. Their footsteps echoed softly in the damp dim lit corridors. They continued walking for a while, turning here and there until Clarke was sure she would never be able to find her way back if she had to.  
  
They reached a crossing. A small room that gave access to another three tunnels. Argus went straight into the tunnel on the left. Clarke immediately felt the upward slant of the tunnel. They kept going for a couple of minutes until they approached the end of the tunnel. Argus stopped a few yards before the exit. The other Grounder did the same. They both crept along the tunnel’s walls towards the end. Lexa walked up to them followed by Clarke and Murphy.  
  
Argus raised his fist. Lexa and the Grounder stopped immediately. Clarke and Murphy remained a few feet behind them.   
  
Clarke saw Lexa and Argus talk in very low voices. Lexa nodded and stepped back.  
  
Argus and the other Grounder left the shelter the tunnel provided and ventured outside.  
  
Clarke joined Lexa.  
  
“They are checking for an ambush” Lexa explained.  
  
A few seconds later, they heard a whistle. Two seconds later, another whistle answered. Lexa looked towards the Grounders that remained with them.   
  
“Let’s go”  
  
Lexa walked out followed by the group.   
  
Clarke blinked a few times trying to adjust to the light of dawn. She took a look around. They were near a clearing. Two grounders were talking to Argus while his companion remained scanning the forest. The other two Grounders stood guard by the tunnel’s exit. Lexa walked up to Argus and his group.   
  
Clarke and Murphy breathed in, grateful to be finally outside, and walked up to Lexa.   
  
Lexa was talking to Argus. As one of the Grounders moved around Lexa, an arrow directed at the former commander hit him in the neck. The man collapsed without making a sound. Lexa looked at her man and recognized the color of the arrow immediately.  
  
“Azgeda!” She exclaimed.  
  
The two Grounders stood around Lexa protectively. Three Azgeda warriors emerged and charged them. One of the two Grounders that were standing by the tunnels rushed to help. The last Trikru Grounder rushed towards Clarke and Murphy to protect them.  
  
An arrow took out him out.  
  
“Clarke!” Lexa shouted to her. The commander tried to run to Clarke but the Azgeda warriors rushed towards her.   
  
Clarke turned in the direction where the arrow seemed to have come from. A few dozen yards away, another Azgeda warrior ha discarded his bow and charged towards them, sword in hand. Clarke pulled out her gun and aimed at him.  
  
Lexa took down the first warrior in the blink of an eye. Argus and his companion took care of the other two Azgeda.  
  
Clarke kept a steady hand on her gun.  
  
A shot reverberated in the forest. The Azgeda warrior dropped dead. Murphy got up from hiding. Clarke turned around and breathed a sigh of relief.    
  
Lexa was fine. She and the Grounders had taken down the Azgeda warriors. She looked at them. Lexa’s expression went from pleased to heda-like in less than a second. She grabbed the knife from Argus belt and threw it at Murphy.  
  
Murphy did not have time to react. He froze. The knife whizzed by him. He heard a soft grunt and a body hitting the ground just behind him. He turned around and saw the body of another Azgeda warrior, a female. She was just a few feet away from him. Murphy turned to look at Lexa. He gave her a small nod, thanking her.  
  
A whistle, different from the previous one Clarke had heard before, reached to them.  
  
“Heda! They’re coming through the tunnels!” informed the Grounder who had rushed to help.  
  
“Stop them!” Lexa ordered them. The Grounder went back to guard the entrance to the tunnel. Whoever tried to come out would not live long. Argus gave a sign to his companion to stay with them.  
  
Argus nodded to Lexa. “Heda. This way!” The man took off. Lexa and the group followed him. They ran through the forest for about a minute till they reached a small clearing.  
  
A Trikru was standing nearby holding the reins of two horses. One of those horses was Lexa’s white mare. Lexa suppressed a small smile. She had not expected to see her again.  
  
Lexa approached her horse, letting the animal sniff her hand. The mare whickered. She pressed her head against the animal’s shoulder ant breathed through her nose slowly. She had managed to hide it from everyone. As soon as the fight had broken out she had been out of breath. Her heart was not beating with its normal rhythm. She was short of breath and slightly dizzy. She could not show weakness. Not now. She heard footsteps. She guarded her expression and squared her shoulders and turned.  
  
Clarke was watching her a couple of feet away from her.  
  
“You okay?” Clarke asked approaching to her.  
  
Lexa nodded. “Yes. I am” She answered.   
  
Clarke looked at her as if she did not believe a word but said nothing. Lexa was not going to open up in front of Argus, the Grounder, and Murphy.  
  
Lexa looked at Argus who was checking their supplies. The man was all business. He made a gesture sending the Grounder away. Murphy stood a few feet away, waiting for them.  
  
“We will ride until we are far enough” Lexa mounted the mare and held her hand towards Clarke.  
  
Clarke took her hand and Lexa hoisted her on her horse. She held onto Lexa, closing her arms around her midriff.  
  
Clarke turned to look at Murphy who eyed Argus with an expression of utter distrust.  
  
“I think I’ll just walk. I’ll take my chances.” Murphy said shaking his head.  
  
“Murphy” Clarke said. “It is our only way out”.  
  
“You are more than welcome to be on your own” Lexa stated coolly. She just did not have time for this crap.  
  
“Azgeda will come looking for you” Clarke pointed out.  
  
Murphy looked at her and then eyed Argus and the horse. The Grounder held out his hand. Murphy puffed and took his hand grudgingly.  
  
He did not like riding a horse. Not one bit. And even less riding a horse with a Grounder.  
  
Lexa spurred her horse and they set off on their journey.  
  
  
  
  
  
Marcus was worried. He had had to hold Octavia and pull her away to avoid revealing their position to Pike and his men. Still weak from the tranquilizer Lincoln had injected her with, she had not been able to offer any resistance. The idea of leaving Lincoln’s body there on that puddle tore at his heart. He knew how important was for the Grounders to have a proper burial. Lincoln did not deserve that. He felt ashamed and guilty. He had underestimated Pike. And good people were paying the price. It had to stop. Or they all would end up paying with their lives.  
  
Octavia had told him in no uncertain terms that she was going back to the cave and was going to try again. She would not rest until Pike was taken down. He would pay for it.  
  
Marcus looked ahead. Two Arkers marched in front, guns at the ready. He was fairly confident Pike would not send soldiers after them but they could not risk it. They needed a place to hide and plan their next step.   
  
Octavia stared ahead, not really aware of her surroundings. She was hurting. It overwhelmed her. She was drowning in pain. She could not feel anything else. Not the dew that seemed to cover everything nor the light winter breeze. Her mind was replaying the images over and over. In every single fucking detail. And with every time the scene replayed in her head the more determined she was to avenge Lincoln’s death. She was going to kill Pike even if it was the last thing she did in her life.  
  
As they advanced towards the cave where Indra had Bellamy prisoner, Marcus kept an eye on Octavia. He owed his life to Lincoln and that young woman.  
  
  
  
Her right arm throbbed painfully. She had been walking for hours. She had glimpsed through the trees the red column of smoke announcing the rising of a new commander. She needed that confirmation. And still, she did not want to believe that Lexa had passed. Her mind was racing coming up with different scenarios.   
  
She felt guilty. She had failed her warriors by being the only survivor and she had not been there for Lexa. But she was determined to find out. She had to see with her own eyes.  
  
But that damn red column did not bode well.  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are deeply appreciated. Kudos too.

Titus looked at the bodies lying on the floor and felt a wave of disgust. Black blood patches painted the area near the throne and where the Natblidas had been sleeping. As Fleimkepa to four, five, he corrected himself, commanders, he had seen his share of gruesome deaths but this… He looked up at Ontari’s face. Her expression daring him to challenge her.  
  
He had ordered everyone to leave the throne room. The ambassadors had left trying to keep their angry and shocked whispers as low as they could. The Azgeda Natblida had not respected the Conclave. She had not respected tradition. He knew some of the ambassadors would take offense at the new commander’s lack of respect. But would they dare to voice those concerns out loud? Would they do something about it? He doubted it. Azgeda had troops near Polis.  
  
Titus kept his composure. He gave a nod to one of the guards posted at the entrance. He and two more guards started to retrieve the bodies. The black blood stains crisscrossed the room marking how Ontari had dragged their bodies to stage her scene.  
  
He stepped aside to give the guards room. A small cart waited outside. The guards would cover the small bodies with white linen sheets and carry them outside. They would be cleaned, their clothes changed. Their bodies would go through the same ritual a fallen commander would go. Tomorrow, they  would be put on the ceremonial pyre and the people of Polis would bid them farewell. They would be honored.  
  
One of the guards walked past Titus with a headless body in his arms. Titus closed his eyes for a moment in silent prayer. The most promising Natblida. The one Lexa had praised  time and time again. The one called to be her successor. He swallowed down the bile that rose from the pit of his stomach. Such an dishonorable death. But he could still make amends. He hoped his plan had worked and that they were safe.  
  
The silence was deafening. Ontari sitting on her throne with a barely concealed smug expression on her face. But her body, her eyes, betrayed her. She sat too tense. Her body rigid while pretending to be at ease, that she was in control. Her eyes tried to hide the turmoil within. Maybe she could fool most people. But not Titus.  
  
He looked at her closely. The minutes trickled by in an uncomfortable silence while the guards carried our their task.  
  
Once they had carried out all the bodies, the guards closed the doors behind them.  
  
Ontari put up a good front. She hid behind an aura of threat and anger. Titus had to give her that. But there was something lurking deep in her eyes. _Fear_.  
  
Titus blinked. Had Nia really taught her anything? As fearless and cruel leader as the former queen had been, she had not taught her disciple anything? Titus shifted her gaze over to Roan who stood not far from her. Roan was not meant to be there. Queen Nia was. That was the plan all along. Nia being the Commander of the Twelve Clans in the shadows. Manipulating Ontari, keeping her on the throne like a puppet to do Nia’s bidding. A bold and devious move that went wrong when Lexa defeated Roan.  
  
And with Queen Nia dead, Ontari had no one to guide her. No one to tell her what to do. And that made her dangerous. Anger and fear.  
  
The doors opened behind him startling him. Two Azgeda warriors walked in. They ignored Titus and came to stop before Ontari, bowing. Titus thought he saw a flash of annoyance on Roan’s face. But it was so fleeting he could not be sure.  
  
“Lexa and Wanheda have escaped,” one of the Azgeda informed.  
  
“How is that possible?” Ontari snarled. She glared at Titus daring him to come up with a plausible answer. “Do you have an explanation, _Fleimkepa_?”  
  
Titus kept his face expressionless. “Lexa is a very resourceful woman. She may still have some support among people in the palace. It is clear I underestimated her.”  
   
Ontari fumed. She did not believe a word.  
  
Roan looked at the guard.  
  
“How?” Roan asked the Azgeda warrior.  
  
“They used the tunnels that give access to the west walls. Our warriors could not stop them.”  
  
Ontari climbed down the steps from her throne and stopped right in front of Titus. She was sill covered in blood. She reeked of death. “Find them. I issue a kill order on Lexa kom Trikru and Wanheda,” she ordered the Azgeda warriors.  
  
“Maybe it would wise to wait after the Rite of Ascension, Ontari and secure the support of the twelve clans,” Roan suggested from his position next to the throne.  
  
Ontari turned to look at him. “I _am_ the new commander. I don’t take orders from you, _King_ Roan. And you would do well to remember what your place is,” Ontari answered with an icy stare. The intonation of his title had all the venom she could muster. Roan schooled his features and gave her a slight nod. The woman turned to look at Titus. “What now, Fleimkepa?” she asked.  
  
Titus laced his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.  
  
“The tradition demands for a day of purification, the burial of the Natblida and prayer. The Rite will be complete once you recite the lineage of all previous commanders before the ambassadors. Not doing so might upset the leaders of the clans.” Titus tried to be as diplomatic as possible while trying to get his point across. The glare he got in return left no room for doubt that Ontari was not pleased at all. “There is much I have to show for you to complete the Rite,” he explained.  
  
Titus kept his body language as non-threatening as he possibly could and observed the young woman.  
  
Ontari’s mind was racing trying to find some way to speed up the process. She could feel Roan staring at her. Queen Nia had warned her about him. Her son had always been a source of anger for the queen. He might be a consummated warrior but he had clashed too often with Nia. That had earned him her utter distrust and contempt. He had become another pawn in her plans. And now, he had become her pawn. An insidious one. She would deal with him when the time came. When he had no longer use for her.  
  
Ontari glared at Titus. She realized it would be foolish to force her hand right now. She had gotten away killing the stupid Natblidas in their sleep. Killing the Fleimkepa would serve no purpose now. Not when she needed him to complete the Rite of Ascension. Not when he held the key. The time would come. She had to be patient. She stood tall and tried to address him as a servant.  
  
“I want the Rite to take place as soon as possible,” she stated. “See to it that nothing goes wrong, Fleimkepa,” she said with a hint of menace in her voice. Titus nodded. “Leave us.”  
  
Titus looked at Roan and then bowed slightly to Ontari. He  then turned around and left the throne room.  
  
Ontari turned to look at Roan. She slowly climbed the steps and sat on the throne. Her throne.  
  
“Tell my servants to prepare me a bath.” She ordered him without even looking in his direction. “I will be in my rooms shortly.”  
  
At first, Roan didn’t move a muscle. He was nobody’s errand boy. But he didn’t want to antagonize Ontari any further. He had no desire to enter a contest of wills in a throne room that reeked of blood. He had better things to do. On the top of his list: getting the upper hand.  
  
He barely bowed to Ontari and left the room. Two Azgeda warriors stood guard. He looked at them. He did not recognized either them. Ontari was probably choosing her own body of personal guards.  
  
He walked away. That young woman was going to take them to war. They had an incredible opportunity to take advantage of what Lexa had accomplished. They could rule the twelve clans under Ontari’s coalition. But the damn woman was going to ruin everything. He changed his mind. A visit to the Azgeda troops in Polis was in order.  


* * *

  
Titus walked with a brisk pace down the hallways. He kept a neutral expression on his face as he came across palace workers. His mind was working feverishly.  
  
His plan had worked. Lexa was safe for now. But he needed a plan to deal with Ontari. He had seen her interactions with Roan. The man had seemed to encourage Ontari when they first arrived at Polis but the little scene in the throne room had given him something he could work with.  
  
He wasn’t surprised by the utter disrespect Ontari felt towards Roan. After all, Ontari had been brought up by Queen Nia. And Nia despised Roan. What had caught him off guard was that Ontari had made her dislike so obvious in his presence.  
  
Maybe he could work that animosity to his advantage. And he needed another plan. The Flame could not end in Ontari’s hands. He had to prepare for that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcomed. It is the only way to improve my writing. Let me know what you think.
> 
> And thanks for the kudos. I greatly appreciate it.

The patrols around Arkadia´s perimeter remained vigilant. They had not seen any sign of Grounders movement in the outer edge of the forest but that did not mean they weren’t there. The blockade was still in effect. One of the guards at the front gates looked down.   
  
From her vantage point, she could see the puddle of crimson water near the vegetable garden right outside the gates. She might not like Grounders very much but killing Lincoln didn’t make that much sense to her. She shrugged it off and focused her attention on the forest line.  A small group of four guards rounded the corner to her right. Two of them carried shovels. The guard raised her weapon aiming at the forest line while her companion got ready to open the gates. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes. Grounders couldn’t be trusted. Pike’s orders were clear. Kill on sight.  
  
  
Abby breathed deeply trying to calm her nerves. She had tried to keep busy in medical reorganizing the stocks. Trying not to think too much. She had been half expecting to see guards rushing into medical with orders to arrest her. She feared her standing down from being chancellor and her relationship with Marcus would make her the prime suspect for their escape. She just hoped they could get some place safe. Maybe if they could get in contact with Clarke, she could convince Lexa to keep them safe despite the blockade. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t lose them both. Not now.  
  
She knew she had made the right choice when she decided to stay. She had never been one to organize rebellions, always working within the system, trying to talk things out or waiting for the appropriate time to act. She was convinced there was a way to convince Pike, to get him to see things differently. But she wasn’t sure what she would have to sacrifice in order to achieve that.   
  
Someone cleared his throat behind her. Abby spun around, startled, her heart racing. Pike stood at the entrance. Abby closed the cupboard and gave a few steps in his direction trying to mask her unease. She looked behind him. Apparently he had come alone. She felt relieved.  
  
“Chancellor Pike,” she said as a greeting, “what can I do for you?”  
  
Pike stared at her for a moment, studying her.  
  
“I promised the Grounder Lincoln we would take care of his people. See to it that they’re taken care of,” he said.  
  
Abby swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt for all the people they had lost. But Lincoln had been such a gentle caring soul. He had been one of the first, if not the only, Grounder to open up to them, to teach them their ways, to give them advice on the best way to approach his own people. He did not hold the same preconceived ideas like the rest of the Grounders did. Something many people in Arkadia could have learned from him.  
  
“His body?”   
  
Pike studied her as if deciding if he had to give her an answer. “Buried.”  
  
“That’s not his tradition,” she said with a hint of force in her voice.  
  
“I am not here to accommodate their traditions, doctor. My job as a chancellor is to make sure our people survive. We have to prepare for war.”  
  
Abby closed her eyes. Grounder or not, Lincoln deserved much more that a hasty burial that did not respect his way of life. Her heart went out to Octavia. Losing a partner. She knew that kind of loss all too well. How devastating it was. How soul numbing it could be.  
  
“Doctor?” Pike was looking at her, obviously waiting for an answer.  
  
Abby shook her head. Her mind remembering what he had asked of her. “Yes. Yes, I was heading to their cell to check on them anyway.” She hardened her expression.  
  
“Good,” Pike answered. “Give them whatever treatment they need”. He turned to leave.  
  
Abby could not help herself. “You will have to let them go at some point. You can’t hold them there forever.”  
  
The man stopped and looked over his shoulder.  
  
“You know very well I can’t do that.” He turned to look fully at her. “You probably don’t have any idea how Kane and the rest managed to escape, do you?”  
  
Abby maintained her expression firm while her heart threatened to burst through her ribs. She looked at him in the eye.  
  
“No. I’ve been here all morning,” she said.  
  
Pike kept his gaze on her. Abby did not back down. She did not waver. Seconds trickled by. Apparently Pike decided not to pursue the subject, he gave her a slight nod and left the room.  
  
Abby tilted her head back, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling softly. Willing her heart to resume a normal rhythm. She opened her eyes and looked around her. She had no patients in medical but a group of Grounders were held in jail. She squared her shoulders. She had worked to do.  
  
She grabbed a medical bag and put some supplies in it. She did not want to make trips back and forth. She zipped the bag closed. As she was about to leave, she heard footsteps approaching the door. She stopped, bag in hand.  
  
Jackson appeared on the door with a placid look on his face. Abby sighed relieved.  
  
“Jackson. Hi,” she said a little surprised. He was not supposed to come into medical until midmorning. “I didn’t expect to see you so early.”  
  
Jackson offered her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought you might need a hand.”  
  
Abby looked around her and then she focused her attention on Jackson. He sounded a little bit off. Or maybe she was just becoming too paranoid. The man entered medical and just stood there.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Then she remembered. “Oh, wait, maybe you could help with those cupboards?” she said gesturing to the one she had left half open. “Restock whatever we’re low in, will you please?”  
  
Jackson looked at her. “Sure,” he said. But he remained still.  
  
Abby looked at him one more time. She was about to ask him if he was okay but something in her gut was telling her to leave the room, right now.   
  
“Thanks,” she said. She hurried out of medical, bag in hand, and walked briskly down the corridor. Her thoughts already on the Grounders she had to take care of.  
  
Jackson stood motionless in the middle of medical.  
  
ALIE showed up beside him and looked at him.  
  
“Do not follow her. She may suspect you,” she told him. ALIE looked away from him, to her right. “Let’s focus on the girl, Raven. She shows more promise.”   
  
Jaha sat cross legged in one of the small storage areas surrounded by some of his followers.  
  
ALIE was sitting just to his left.  
  
“She is strong. She is trying to block me,” ALIE commented, intrigued at the woman’s behavior. “She does not know it is only a matter of time.”  
  
Jaha opened his eyes and looked at her. “I could speak to Abby again. It may be worth a try.”  
  
ALIE cocked her head, assessing the possibilities of such an interaction. The woman had proved to be quite antagonistic withholding the keys. The young woman, Raven, had discovered the location of the key maker. Unfortunately, she had come to the conclusion that she was losing some memories. She did not understand that ALIE was helping her to avoid pain. Raven’s change of attitude had been a setback quickly corrected by one of Thelonious’s followers who had snatched the key maker. But Abby's approval of the keys could move forward her timetable.  
  
“Yes. Now that she is losing support in Arkadia she may be more receptive to my efforts,” ALIE said.  
  
Jaha stood up and headed for the exit. The rest of his followers remained seated, waiting to receive instructions.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Abby has just finished checking on Denae. Her condition had improved thanks to the antibiotics. The rest of the Grounders seemed to be doing better.  No one had told them about Lincoln. Denae had been the first to ask Abby. Her eyes had held a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, Lincoln had been spared. That the Skaikru leader had reconsidered. Abby’s slight shake of her head and sympathetic look had crushed their hopes. She heard one of the Grounders mutter softly “ _Yu gonplei ste odon Lincoln kom Trikru_ ”. Abby had had to swallow the lump in her throat. She felt responsible. She managed to murmur an “I am sorry” that she believed would never be enough.  
  
She took a good look at them. They might be locked up, weak and still recovering, but if Pike thought Grounders were going to remain sitting idly, he was sorely mistaken. She knew that, eventually, the Grounders would take the slightest opportunity to break out of jail. And that would most likely end up in bloodshed.  
  
She stepped out of the cell just when two guards were bringing trays with food. She looked down the corridor expecting to see another guard carrying more trays but the corridor was deserted. One look at the trays had been enough to make her blood boil.   
  
“Is that all the food you are bringing them?” she said addressing one of the guards with a tray.  
  
The man looked at her startled, not expecting to be questioned. “Chancellor’s orders, ma’am,” the guard answered. She didn’t recognize him at first. Probably someone from Farm Station.  
  
Abby looked at the trays. It was not enough for five people. Pike was not giving them enough food. Keep someone malnourished so they don’t have the strength to revolt against you. She felt disgusted. It went against everything she stood for.  
  
“Bring them another two trays of food,” she stated in her chancellor voice.  
  
The guard looked at her. “Ma’am, we are—”  
  
“I don’t care what you orders were, soldier. They,” she said pointing at the Grounders, “are my patients. And I have just received orders from Chancellor Pike himself to take care of them. I am not doing everything I can to return them back to health just so you can starve them”. Abby shot the man an angry glare. Abby hoped that, if push came to shove, Pike’s promise to Lincoln would work in her favor. The guard seemed hesitant to take her orders.   
  
She gave a step closer to him, entering his personal space. “Maybe I should take this matter to the Chancellor himself,” she kept her voice low but the menacing tone was very clear.  
  
The man took a moment and then made a gesture to his companion. “No, ma’am. We will bring them more food.”   
  
Abby did not step back and kept her eyes trained on him and in an even tone she said, “I am sure you will.”  
  
She then stepped back and looked at the Grounders. Denae gave her a slight nod. Abby turned and walked away.  
  
She was making her way over back to medical when she ran into Jaha. She did not stop.  
  
“Abby,” the man called after her.  
  
Abby slowed down until Jaha caught up with her. “What is it, Thelonius?” she asked.  
  
“I was wondering if you had reconsidered your stand against releasing the keys.”  
  
Abby stopped short and turned to look at him. Thelonious looked back at her with that expression she was beginning to hate. As if he were doing them all a favor. As if he were some sort of visionary. Or maybe just someone passing around a new drug. Whichever the case, she was not changing her opinion. She kept her expression as impassive as possible.  
  
“I will not release the…,” Abby tried to remember how Jaha referred to those things, “keys without knowing for sure the side effects. And, as I told you before, I am not convinced I should approve their distribution.”  
  
Jaha opened his arms in a gesture of peace. “Abby… You should really think about it. It can bring so much peace to all of us. You just have to trust me.” He gave her that soft smile of his.   
  
“She won’t release the keys just yet.” Jaha tilted his head to his right where ALIE stood.  
  
ALIE studied Abby with her usual poise. Her voice merely stating a fact. She made a logical choice. She looked from Abby to Jaha. “Leave her, Thelonious. There are other ways.”  
  
The man sighed softly. “Very well,” he said as if accepting her decision, “but I would really appreciate if you took a look at them.” He took a step closer to her. “They can truly change your life, Abby. For the better. The City of Lights. Don’t you want that for yourself? For the ones you love?”  
  
Abby looked at him. She saw a man who really believed what he was saying. She had never considered Thelonious delusional. He had been the voice of reason up in the Ark. Far more reasonable than Marcus had been in the beginning. Could he be suffering from a mental disorder that made him delusional? A coping mechanism for everything they had gone through. A way to seek redemption for his actions, for his decisions. For the death of his son. They all had to struggle with some level of PTSD. But some were better at coping than others. Maybe Thelonious had cracked under the pressure.   
  
“Yes,” she conceded, “ of course I want that but not at any cost. Now if you will excuse…”  
  
Abby didn’t stop to wait for his reaction. She walked away and tried very hard not to look back. The hairs on her nape were standing on end.  
  
She arrived at medical. Jackson was nowhere to be seen. The cupboards were still open, untouched. She would take care of it herself. She needed to keep busy.  
  
She left the bag on one of the beds and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She tried to relax in the familiarity of medical. She felt comfortable here. At ease. A feeling that had become so scarce in the last few months, she welcomed it with open arms. But she knew very well that feeling would disappear the moment she opened her eyes. Then she would have to face whatever Earth threw at them.  
  
After a minute or two of silence, Abby realized that the Grounder army was probably not the only threat to Arkadia. Another enemy was within its walls.


	7. Chapter 7

Clarke was tired. The emotional stress for the last couple of days was catching up with her. She had been sleeping fitfully   in the last week. But then, when was the last time she had managed an entire night of uninterrupted sleep? One night when she didn’t wake up drenched in sweat with the vestiges of a nightmare still lurking in the back of her mind. She missed those days in the Ark when she could go to sleep without worrying about her survival the next day.  
  
And now, every time she went to sleep, every time she woke up, the first thing that came to her mind was how they were going to survive another day on Earth. She was tired of just surviving. The few days she had been in Polis, that afternoon in Lexa’s chambers, drawing her while she slept, had been the most peaceful time she could remember in a very long time. The nightmares still haunted her but having Lexa near had had a somewhat calming effect on her.   
  
She looked up and saw patches of a gray sky amid the top of the trees. The sun had not made a single appearance all morning. The sky had the same gloomy atmosphere she was feeling. The consequences of Lexa’s fall from power changed everything.   
  
Clarke scanned the trees around them. They had been riding for what seemed like hours until Lexa decided to give their horses a much needed rest. Now they were walking down a trail. Lexa held her horse’s reins. The animal following her placidly.  
  
She looked over her shoulder. Murphy was trudging along just a few yards behind them. After close to an hour riding he had begun to protest loudly about how uncomfortable riding was. After a few snarky comments, Clarke had cut him off before Argus decided to throw him off his horse.  
  
The Grounder had been sent ahead to scout for trouble. The man had ridden off disappearing into the trees. She hadn’t seen him since but Lexa didn’t seem concerned or worried.  
  
Clarke looked to her right. Lexa walked beside her. Her body language revealed nothing but self-confidence and calm. Her eyes though would scan their surroundings from time to time. Always on the alert.  
  
Lexa seemed to notice Clarke’s attention and glanced in her direction.   
  
“I don’t like it, Lexa,” Clarke said bringing up the subject once again.  
  
“It is the best choice. I can’t go to Arkadia and you know that.”  
  
Clarke was mad at herself. She knew Lexa was right. With Pike as chancellor there was no way in hell they would allow Lexa and Argus to seek refuge within Arkadia’s walls. And Octavia was right. She needed to go back. Her people needed her. They needed to sort through the mess they had created and reach a solution. The stakes had never been higher.   
  
But she needed Lexa. Just the idea of not seeing her made her anxious, tied her stomach into knots. What if something happened to her while they were apart? She hadn’t been able to shake off the memory flashes of Lexa lying on the floor, unresponsive. The surge of dread, the abyss that had threatened to open up just beneath her feet and swallow her whole, the pain that had gripped her chocking the life out of her. She shook her head and looked at Lexa. She fought back the lump that threatened to rise up in her throat. She remembered what she had said to Lexa in her quarters. Someday, when they owed nothing more to their people. When they didn’t have to put everyone’s needs before their own. She yearned for peace, for living instead of merely surviving from one day to the next.   
  
“Can you trust her?” Clarke tried to seek some sort of reassurance that Lexa was going to be okay.  
  
Lexa looked at her. A slight smirk curving her lips.  
  
“Yes. She is an old friend. Someone I know I can trust”. Lexa seemed to lose herself in far off memories.   
  
Clarke waited for Lexa to elaborate but she just kept walking. After only a few seconds, Lexa glanced briefly in her direction and then returned her gaze to the trail ahead of them. She exhaled softly.  
  
“If anything should happen to me—”  
  
“ _Nothing_ is going to happen to you,” Clarke said with finality.   
  
Lexa looked at her somewhat surprised at the intensity of Clarke’s words. Her eyes softening. “You don’t know that”.  
  
Clarke turned her head and looked at the trail. No, she didn’t know. She recalled her stay in Polis, the attempts at Lexa’s life: the failed coup that set Lexa up to fight Roan, Semet trying to stab her at the Ascension Day celebration and then Titus. But those were only the attempts that she knew of. An image came unbidden to her mind, Lexa’s lifeless body on the floor of her quarters while she tried to bring her back to life. She looked back at Lexa. Clarke’s shoulders sagged a little.  
  
“You’re right. I don’t” Clarke said. She did not know. She could not know. And that uncertainty, not being able to prevent anything from happening to Lexa, was driving her crazy. She didn’t know if it was because of her feelings for the commander or her need to “fix everything” as Lexa had once told her.  
  
“War is coming, Clarke. Civil war. If Ontari rules as Queen Nia did her people, the clans will eventually rebel against her. And Skaikru are the most vulnerable now. We need to be prepared. Both our people need to be ready. We need to learn to work together”.  
  
“Then come with me,” Clarke was reaching the point of begging her. “You could stay in TonDc while I fix things and then have both our people work together,” Clarke tried one more time.  
  
Lexa’s lips curved in a soft smile. She loved Clarke’s tenacity. But time was of essence. Ontari would not wait. She needed to convince Luna.   
  
“I am a _natrona_ now. Anyone who helps me will risk their lives. Argus and I will escort you through the blockade line. Make sure you cross it safely. Then I will go to meet Luna. There is much to be done”.  
  
Clarke nodded and returned her attention to the trail. After a moment, Lexa broke the silence.  
  
“Will you be safe?” Lexa asked. “In Arkadia?”  
  
Clarke turned to look at her. Lexa was trying to mask the worried expression on her face. She smiled softly.  
  
“I think so. Yeah.”  
  
“I could leave Argus with you. As a bodyguard,” Lexa mentioned as an afterthought.   
  
Clarke’s smile grew. What good could a bodyguard do when he couldn’t go where she went? “I can count on my mom and Marcus. Octavia…” Maybe she could talk to Octavia. Explain why she had stayed.  
  
“What about Bellamy?” Lexa inquired.  
  
Clarke thought for a moment. “No,” she said remembering their last encounter, “I can’t trust him.”  
  
She still had flashes of the entire Grounder army dead in their camp. Slaughtered in their sleep. Three hundred warriors sent by Lexa to defend her own people. And they slaughtered them. Bellamy slaughtered them. If what Finn did to those eighteen Grounders had left her nauseated and horrified, Bellamy’s actions were those of a war criminal.   
  
The neighing of approaching horses got her attention. Lexa let go of the reins, her hand automatically reaching for her sword, her body coiled ready to engage in combat. Clarke took out her gun and stood beside Lexa.  
  
A few seconds later, two horses on gallop rounded a bend on the trail. Argus and a second rider.   
  
Indra.  
  
The Grounder general stopped her horse. She stared at Lexa in utter disbelief.  Argus nodded his head to Lexa and dismounted immediately, stroking the neck of his horse in an affectionate gesture. He took the reins of Indra’s horse.   
  
Indra set foot on the ground. She still had her right arm in a sling. She walked up to Lexa slowly, staring at her up and down.   
  
Lexa remained still, left hand in sword, in a non aggressive move but ready to act if necessary, waiting to see Indra’s reaction. Her body ramrod straight in her command persona.  
  
The Trikru general stopped only a couple of feet away from Lexa and stared at her. Then, she bowed her head in recognition.  
  
“ _Heda_ ” she said a little breathlessly, with a hint of respect and awe.  
  
Lexa kept her command mask but there was an undercurrent of affection in her voice. “Indra.” She extended her arm. They shook forearms slowly as if reaffirming their bond.  
  
“I heard the horns of the rising of a new commander,” Indra commented.  
  
“Well, the news of her death have been greatly exaggerated” a snarky Murphy retorted.   
  
Clarke turned around. Murphy had walked up to stand right behind them and was regarding Indra with a bored expression. He notice Clarke’s glare and shrugged his shoulder unapologetically.    
  
Indra shot him an annoyed glare.   
  
“Indra,” Lexa gestured to walk away with her so they could talk.  
  
Lexa and Clarke exchanged glances. There was no need for words. Clarke gave her a slight nod. Murphy and Indra in the same space was just asking for trouble.   
  
Both women walked away from them to one side of the trail near some trees.  
  
“What I would give to be a fly on any of those trees,” Murphy said gesturing to the trees near Indra and Lexa. He walked up next to Clarke. “You trust her?”  
  
“Lexa?” Clarked asked while she tucked away her gun.  
  
“Either one of them”.  
  
Clarke watched the women talk. Trust Lexa? The betrayal at Mount Weather and her capture at Roan’s hands flashed in her mind but so did the memories at Polis, what they had shared, what they had learned from one another. And in that moment, she realized that no matter what had happened between them she did trust Lexa. She trusted her with her life.  
  
“I trust Lexa,” she stated.  
  
“But not Indra,” Murphy coaxed.  
  
“Indra has every right not to trust us after what we did to her army. But she is loyal to Lexa.”  
  
Murphy looked up at the two warriors talking. “Your girlfriend has no reason to trust us either, but whatever,” he said. “So, what are the plans, princess?”   
  
“We go back to Arkadia,” she said with conviction, ignoring the _princess_ remark.  
  
Murphy stared at her. “Look, if you want to go all hero, that’s fine with me. I got other options,” he said.  
  
“Other options?” Clarke turned fully to him. She grabbed him by the arm and walked away a few steps form Lexa and Indra. “What other options, Murphy? How long do you think you’ll last by yourself?” She berated herself for believing that maybe Murphy had grown up since she last saw him. But he was the same egotistical, self-serving brat she met at the Ark. Everyone had banded together to survive and he only looked after himself. Clarke’s anger was mounting rapidly.   
  
Murphy was taken aback by Clarke’s outburst. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lexa looking at them with a intent expression. Clarke shook her head and Lexa relaxed her posture, focusing her attention back to her conversation with Indra. But a sudden glance towards them told him she was paying attention to their body language.  
  
“Ontari is probably rising an army to wipe us out. And then she’ll try to rule all twelve clans. Do you think she is gonna stop at any time? There’s a kill order in effect for all of us. How far do you think you can run, Murphy? For how long?  You are the only one, besides Jaha, who knows the entire story about the AI,” she said lowering her voice. “Don’t you think you have a responsibility to your own people?” she asked.  
  
“You mean the same people who locked me up? The same people who rejected me? I’ve never fitted in. So, thanks, but no thanks. I can manage very well on my own,” he retorted angrily. “Why should I help you?”  
  
“Maybe because right now, we are your only chance at staying alive. Maybe because it is the right thing to do,” Clarke said hotly. “Because sometimes you have to look beyond what you want and do what is right for your people,” as she was saying those words, she couldn’t help looking at Lexa.  
  
“Yeah, right. So you’re gonna walk up to them and say ' _hi, let’s talk about this bullshit chancellor Pike has gotten us into'_. Yeah, I can see how that’s gonna work,” said Murphy sarcastically.  
  
The commander was making her way back to them. Indra right behind her. Lexa looked between Murphy and Clarke, gaging their interaction.   
  
“Is everything all right?” she asked Clarke.  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Yeah. Just peachy,” Murphy said snidely walking away from them and head for the horses which were suddenly far more interesting.  
  
Lexa looked at Murphy’s back and sighed inwardly for the umpteenth time. She was growing tired of his attitude. She focused her attention on Clarke.  
  
“Indra is going to Polis,” announced Lexa.   
  
Clarke nodded in understanding. “We need someone on the inside. Do you have the radio Marcus gave you?”  
  
“Yes,” Indra stood tall despite her injured shoulder. She had lost some of her fierce aura as a warrior. The loss of her people still weighing heavily on her mind. But Clarke knew it would be a serious mistake to underestimate Indra.

“There is something more, Clarke. Something you need to know,” Lexa said. “Octavia went to Arkadia to free Marcus and Lincoln.”  
  
“Alone?” Clarke asked Indra with an incredulous look on her face. She looked from Indra to Lexa, her mind racing. “If Octavia tries to break them free and Pike finds out,” she started.  
  
“Octavia is a warrior,” Indra cut her off. “She will handle herself like Trikru.” Clarke looked at Indra in surprise at her impassioned defense of Octavia. There was pride in her voice. “We were holding Bellamy in a cave not far from Skaikru camp when I heard the horns.”  
  
“Bellamy is with you?” Clarke asked perplexed.  
  
“He is a prisoner.”  
  
Clarke stared at Indra for a second. She needed to go back to Arkadia. Right now.  
  
“We should go,” she said urgently to Lexa.  
  
“Agreed.” Lexa looked at Indra. “Talk to Titus and keep me informed.”  
  
“ _Sha, Heda_ ,” Indra answered with a respectful bow. With Argus’s help, Indra got on her horse.  
  
Lexa approached her. “Trust no one,” she said.  
  
Indra nodded and spurred her mount, heading back to Polis.  
  
Lexa turned to look at Clarke, her expression grim.  
  
“I know that cave,” she said to Clarke then she look at Argus. “We ride, hard,” she announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Your comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks.


	8. Chapter 8

Marcus had kept his eyes on Octavia since the moment she insisted on walking instead of riding. The young woman had remained stoically silent. Every time Marcus had tried to engage her in conversation, he had struck an impenetrable wall. She had closed off to everyone. Even Harper had tried to get her to talk without any success. The rest of the group had given her a wide berth, letting her be for a while. She had only spoken to give them instructions or to tell them to hurry up. The drizzle was slowly but surely drenching their clothes and the chilly morning breeze was beginning to seep into their bones.  
  
Octavia had taken a lead position in the group guiding them through the woods towards the cave. Back to the person she thought was partially responsible for Lincoln’s death and leaving behind the body of her lover. She strode through the foliage, never looking back to check if they were following her.   
  
_Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_  
  
She had been gritting her teeth for so long and so hard her jaw hurt. She had bruises and aches all over her body. Everything hurt. But none of it could compare to the raw agony she felt inside. It had overwhelmed any other feelings and it threatened to annihilate everything on its path leaving only a cracked  shell behind. She feared if she let go, there would be nothing left of her, that she would be irreversibly lost. But then, that wouldn’t be so bad now that Lincoln was dead.  
  
 _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_  
  
Her mind kept conjuring up the same images. Lincoln handcuffed at his wrists and ankles, kneeling on the ground like the criminal he never was. The soldiers with their rifles at the ready standing a few feet away. Pike standing next to him.  
  
The way he had fallen to his knees, not in surrender but in sacrifice. She had been willing to share his fate so others would be spared. There had been no doubt in her mind at the tunnel’s entrance. If he decided to stay, then she would too. She would have never left him. They were together. For good and bad.   
  
What she hadn’t expected at all was for him to drug her with the darts. The last thing she had heard was “I love you”. She then the prick of needle puncturing her skin, her body betrayed her and then blackness.  
  
When she came to, she was on top of her horse. She raised her head to get her bearings and then she saw them.  
  
She saw them coming out of Arkadia. Weak and groggy, she dismounted and stumbled near a tall bush. She felt Marcus coming up behind her and holding her up.  
  
She saw Lincoln kneeling and looking up at the sky. And then Pike gave the final step. He pulled out the gun, said something to him and then shot him in the head.  
  
Lincoln fell to the ground, dead.  
  
Dead.   
  
Dead.  
  
Her heart stopped painfully for a moment and then it began to break and shatter in so many little pieces, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to find all of them or that she would even care to look for them in the first place. The pain had almost brought her to her knees.  
  
 _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_  
  
Lincoln’s betrayal hurt. He had taken away her decision to follow him. He had decided for her. He didn’t give her a choice. And although her mind understood that decision, her heart was breaking.  
  
But that’s who Lincoln is… Was. Always protective. Always putting others before him.  
  
They had gone through so much together. Lincoln turning into a reaper. His rescue and almost death when Abby’s treatment didn’t work. Turning voluntarily into a reaper again so Bellamy could infiltrate Mount Weather.   
  
Lincoln who had rushed to save her life when she almost died poisoned. Lincoln’s advice to best approach his people so hers could stand a better chance at surviving. So they could tend bridges between both their people.  
  
And yet, many of her own had looked at Lincoln in distrust and judgement. He was a Grounder. As if that explained and justified everything.  
  
He had questioned Lexa’s orders to retreat at the entrance of Mount Weather, to abandon Skypeople to their fate. His dissent and later escape had earned him a kill order from Lexa.   
  
And still, her people looked at him with distrust, even with animosity.   
  
And with Pike’s arrival at Arkadia and his election as the new chancellor, the situation had only gotten worse. It didn’t matter if you had helped Skypeople, if you had risked your life for many of them, if you were a Grounder, you were to be locked up.  
  
 _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_  
  
And it was only going to get so much worse, she thought morosely. The new chancellor would make sure of that.  
  
Chancellor Pike.  
  
The words tasted like bile in her mouth. Thick. Sour. Disgusting.  
  
What a joke of elections. And just when they were beginning to achieve some sort of peace since they landed on Earth. As much as she disapproved Clarke, or questioned her motives to stay in Polis, she had played a major role in changing the commander’s views on Skypeople. At least, Lexa seemed to listen to Clarke. That was far more than she could say of Pike. He had turned a deaf ear to everyone who had more experience dealing with Grounders, listening to only those who agreed with him. He only listened to those who had the same bigoted ideas  
  
Pike’s hatred and intolerance had brought them to the brink of war. A war they could not win. He had left them with only one choice. Take him down. If Lexa upheld her word, maybe, just maybe, they could prevent war. Maybe they could lift the blockade and start negotiating on a more peaceful ground.   
  
They had to take Pike down.  
  
And then there was Bellamy.  
  
There was a time she was proud of her brother. Loved him. Now, she didn’t recognize him.   
  
He was responsible for Lincoln’s death. He might not have pulled the trigger but he had supported Pike all along. He had taken an active role in the slaughter of the Grounder army. He had helped killing 300 people in their sleep. They never stood a chance. That army was there to protect them and he killed them. He had started a chain of events that had put them on the brink of a precipice.  
  
Yes, Bellamy was responsible for Lincoln’s death.  
  
Her rage boiled in the pit of her stomach. The pain and agony were still there but this new feeling gave her the strength and purpose she needed. It would not bring Lincoln back but she was going to get her revenge one way or the other.  
  
A death by a thousand cuts.  
  
They both had to pay for what they had done. She held them both accountable. It didn’t matter what the rest would have to say. They would pay. She would help to get her people safe, to achieve peace. But sooner or later, she would make them pay.  
  
She wasn’t sure what she was going to do at the cave when she saw Bellamy again. A part of her was asking for blood.  
  
She was going to avenge Lincoln’s death.  
  
She was going to kill Pike. That thought comforted her.  
  
She would get her revenge.  
  
 _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_  
  
  
  
  
They reached the cave about half an hour later. Octavia tended to the horse briefly and headed into the cave. She did not care what Marcus or the rest did right now. She wanted an explanation.   
  
As she made her way she realized she did not know how to deal with Bellamy. She did not want to deal with him, at all. She had to talk to Indra.  
  
She strode inside the cave.  
  
“Indra?”, she called. Why Indra hadn’t come out? She must have heard them by now. Octavia’s heart rate picked up. Had something happened to her? She heard the rattling of chains.  
  
“O?” Bellamy called back from deep in the cave.  
  
Octavia saw her brother standing up, still handcuffed to the wall. A surge of hatred overwhelmed her. She clenched her teeth. Her stare ice cold. But her heart was breaking again. She half turned. She did not want to see him.  
  
“Where is Indra?” she demanded.   
  
Bellamy shook his head. “She left,” he said looking at his sister. She didn’t look him back. She was avoiding his gaze. He looked towards the entrance. Had she come back alone? “She said something about a new commander. You’re all back?” he said. No one was coming behind her. Where were they? “Is Lincoln with you?”  
  
Her mind barely registered Bellamy’s answer as to Indra’s whereabouts. Her brother’s question felt as if someone had just gutted her heart. Her head snapped and she looked at him, trying to keep herself under control and failing miserably.  
  
“Pike executed him. He put a bullet to his brain,” she murmured in a broken voice, tasting the grief in her mouth. The images came back, full force. Lincoln falling to his knees, looking up at the sky. The shot ringing in her ears. His body falling sideways, dead. The pain flared up, blinding her.  
  
Bellamy stared at her with an expression of deep sorrow. _How dared he?_ , Octavia thought.  
  
“O…,” Bellamy started, “I’m sorry. I’m so—”  
  
Octavia snapped. She swung her arm and struck him with everything she had. Bellamy grunted, his head rocked with the violence of her punch. He could immediately taste the blood in his mouth. He stumbled but managed not to fall. The shackles clanking with his every move.  
  
“Shut up,” Octavia said half gasping half sobbing. Images of small moments between them flashed through her mind. Never again. “You killed him,” she accused him.   
  
Bellamy turned his head to face her. She punched him again brutally bringing him to his knees. Blood was coming out of his mouth. She had broken his lip. It felt good.  
  
Bellamy stood up slowly. He had never seen his sister like this. Grief was rolling off her body in waves. He made an imploring gesture with his manacled hands.  
  
Octavia hit him again. Two punches on his face, another in his stomach. She used her whole body to strike him. Bellamy doubled over, heaving. She stood ready to go again.   
  
Marcus entered the cave, followed by Sinclair and Miller. It took them less than a second to know what was going on.  
  
“Octavia,” Marcus called out to her in a soft voice.  
  
“Don’t,” Octavia spat as a warning, barely looking over her shoulder. She was going to make his brother feel the same way she felt. Gutted. Cold. Raw. Alone.  
  
Marcus shifted his glance to Bellamy who shook his head. This was between siblings.  
  
Bellamy squared his shoulders. “O…, please—” he began.  
  
Octavia gave him a vicious one-two punch. Bellamy fell again to his knees with a loud groan. His whole face burned in pain. He tried to pick himself up from the floor. Octavia didn’t let him go very far. She kneed him in the stomach and punched him in the face again with her right hand, swinging her body to add all the strength she could muster. Bellamy felt flat to the ground. He coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth and splattering the floor of the cave.   
  
Sinclair moved to step in between the siblings but Marcus put a hand on his chest and he mouthed no. Sinclair looked at Miller who shook his head and turned, uncomfortable.   
  
Bellamy rolled on one side, taking his hand to his ribs.   
  
“O…, we’re siblings,” he said, coughing again and gasping for air.  
  
Octavia clenched her hands in fists, nails biting her flesh.  
  
She remembered waking up in Lincoln’s arms, making love with him, his kisses, his soft smile, his soul. Never again.  
  
She bent down so he could see her clearly and with a fury born out of utter grief she announced: “ _Ai bro ste steadaunon_ ,” she said, panting raggedly. “My brother is dead. _Ai laik Oktavia kom Trikru_.”  
  
She could feel tears running down her cheeks. She raised her fist again only this time Marcus grabbed her by the arm and held her, pulling her away from Bellamy.   
  
Octavia tried to break free of his hold but Marcus was strong. He made a hushing noise, trying to comfort her. Octavia struggled and managed to half turn in his arms. The look of empathy and compassion she saw on Marcus took away her anger. She suddenly felt deflated. A wave of sorrow began to fill every nook and cranny of her heart and soul. Her fury abandoned her. She looked at her brother, lying on the floor, his head hung. She didn’t care if it was in shame or pain, or both. He was dead to her.  
  
Marcus made a gesture for Sinclair to come over. Octavia was trembling. Her breathing labored.  
  
“Take her outside for a few minutes,” he said in a low voice to Sinclair.   
  
The man nodded and took Octavia gently by her arm, guiding her outside. He exchanged a glance with Miller who had busied himself with their supplies.  
  
Marcus turned to look at Bellamy. The young man was still lying on the ground. His face was a bloody mess. He rose up with difficulty, testing his ribs. The shackles didn’t give him that much freedom of movement.  
  
Bellamy looked at Marcus.  
  
“I… I didn’t know…,” Bellamy began to say. Pain was evident in his eyes. Maybe a hint of regret in his voice. He looked at the entrance of the cave. His shoulders sagged in defeat.  
  
Marcus didn’t say anything. He remained silent, looking at Bellamy. The young man returned his attention to him.  
  
“I am sorry, Kane,” he apologized. “I didn’t know…”  
  
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Marcus said, “if you want people to forgive you, you have to start by owning those mistakes.”  
  
Bellamy nodded. “I understand,” he said. He leaned against the wall of the cave. His knees were shaking badly.   
  
Marcus studied him. He was sure Bellamy didn’t fully understand the responsibility for his actions. There was forgiveness and then there was accountability. It was going to take a long time before Octavia let her brother in. He had a very long road ahead of him.   
  
Marcus looked around and saw some rags. They had to tend to his injuries. He picked up a rag and wet it with some water. He walked over to Bellamy and started to clean him up, wiping the blood.  
  
Footsteps echoed in the cave. Octavia was striding towards them followed closely by Sinclair.   
  
The young woman exuded an aura of determination but her body language was not threatening.  
  
“Where is Indra?” she demanded.  
  
Bellamy looked at her sister. The streaks the tears had left on her face were clearly visible. He had brought this on all my himself.  
  
“She said a new commander had risen,” he explained.  
  
Marcus looked puzzled. “And Lexa?”  
  
“Lexa is dead,” Bellamy stated.  
  
The news surprised everyone. This changed everything. Their only chance at bringing peace between both their peoples was through Lexa. A new commander meant starting all over again. With the massacre of three hundred Grounder warriors against them.  
  
“Clarke is still in Polis, maybe—” Marcus began.  
  
“We have to get her out,” Sinclair suggested.  
  
“Clarke is an ambassador. I don’t think they’ll do anything to her just yet,” Marcus said.  
  
“Forget about Clarke for now. We have to give them what they want,” Octavia was already making plans. “We give them Pike,” she said adamant.   
  
They all knew Grounder justice.   
  
Death by a thousand cuts.  
  
If she didn’t kill him first.  
  
 _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun had finally broken through the clouds right after lunch but Titus could not feel its warmth. He just hoped the weather would hold in the evening when the ceremony was scheduled to take place.  
  
He had come down to the square where Lexa had defeated Roan in combat. The ceremonial square where they held some of the most important rites. This was where the young _Natblidas_ should have fought each other. In fair combat. Not killed in their sleep and then their bodies lined up for shock value near the throne.  
  
Taimi, a young Trikru scout, led a group of people in building the funeral pyre for tonight. Tree trunks were being laid carefully. It had to hold the bodies of all eight young initiates.  
  
Another group was busy decorating the stand for the Commander. Every single commander had shown their respect to the Fallen. It was one of the Commander’s pillars: compassion. Only this time, Titus seriously doubted Ontari would even show up to honor them.  
  
His scouts had informed him of Azgeda troops near Polis and it was more than obvious the increasing number of Azgeda warriors in the capital. When he confronted Ontari, she just shrugged it off dismissively saying they were there to honor their new commander. But the glint in her eyes was unmistakable. Ontari had her own agenda.  
  
Some ambassadors had already come up to him to express their concerns about the new commander and her lack of respect for their ways. He had spent the last two hours trying to appease them, trying to justify what he could not condone. They were on the brink of war.  
  
He returned his attention to Taimi, one of his scouts, who was overseeing the building of the pyre. The young woman was helping the group building the pyre. She had an serious expression. She had been one of the instructors for the Natblidas and their deaths weighed heavily on her. She would make an excellent Flamekeeper when the time came. He would have to talk to her about formalizing her training.  
  
Everything seemed under control. Appearances were important in times of chaos. Gave people a sense of security. And chaos was fast approaching.  
  
He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He did not turn around.  
  
“It seems you have everything under control, _Fleimkepa_ ,” said Roan coming to stand beside him.  
  
Titus glanced in his direction, nodding however slightly. But he did not say anything. He would wait for Roan. A few  moments passed in silence.  
  
“I understand the search for new _Natblidas_ has begun,” the Azgeda king said.  
  
“Yes. I have sent scouts to all the clans.”  
  
Roan looked at the preparations taking place in the square. The pyre was in the center, right in front of the commander’s stand. All ambassadors had the obligation to attend. Thank the spirits he wasn’t one of them.  
  
“The rite of the Fallen is important. I trust Commander Ontari will attend herself,” Titus implied. He wanted to see how close those two truly were.  
  
Roan didn’t show any reaction. He took his time to answer.  
  
“I will give you some advice, _Fleimkepa_. My mother trained Ontari herself. And as you have seen by now, she trained her well.” His tone was deceptively calm.  
  
Titus kept his hands clasped behind his back. He tilted his head slightly to glance at Roan.  
  
“She trained her so well that she shows no respect to the King of Azgeda… or her own traditions as the new commander. _Lexa kom Trikru_ could see beyond her personal dislikes,” he added in a low voice. He turned slightly to face him. “That’s why Queen Nia lived that long after killing Costia. Lexa brought the Azgeda into the Coalition she created. Ontari is already destroying it.”  
  
Roan narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He watched the people working together for that night’s ceremony.  
  
“The Coalition was already breaking, _Fleimkepa_. Lexa showed weakness for Wanheda. Her feelings made her weak. The Flame rejected her”.  
  
Titus clenched his jaw and kept his face as expressionless as possible. Lexa’s words on Ascension Day as she shouted at him came back unbidden, echoing in his ears. He felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe, because of her feelings for the Skygirl, Lexa was stronger than ever.  
  
“Ontari will not make that mistake,” Roan continued. He turned fully to look at Titus, who stood his ground facing the square. Roan leaned slightly into him, almost whispering in his ear. “So, it would be in everybody’s best interest that the Ascension ceremony proceeds without incidents. I am sure the ambassadors listen to you”.  
  
Titus shot him a look. Roan smirked and bowed ever so slightly. He started to walk away when Titus interrupted him.  
  
“I hope the new commander is as well trained as you say she is, King Roan. That she can see beyond her dislikes…,” he said half-turning to him, “for everybody’s sake,”, he finished looking pointedly at him.  
  
Roan stared at him for a moment and then turned in silence, resuming his walk.  
  
Titus turned to look at the square without really seeing it. The more he thought about his plan, the more it made sense. But it would come at a heavy price.  
  
A price he was willing to pay.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Abby looked at the looming clouds in the afternoon sky. It would rain tonight. She had gone outside to take a walk, running away from the claustrophobic atmosphere and the feeling of dread that the Ark stirred in her. She had begun to recognize the people who had taken the “key”. And she was scared.  
  
She had started to look at the people walking to and from doing their chores. She thought she could guess who was under the chip’s influence by their body language, by their facial expressions. But with some people she had serious doubts. The truth was she didn’t know who she could trust. And she was convinced she was being watched.  
  
She inhaled softly, trying to calm her nerves. Talking to Pike was not an option. The man would not listen to her and she had to tread carefully around him. She needed to do something.  
  
She headed back to the main entrance to the Ark’s interior. She passed by different groups of people. Some looked at her with a smile on their faces, others just acknowledged her presence. She was almost to the entrance when the hair at the back of her neck stood on end. The sensation so strong she nearly gasped. Her instincts yelling at her to run.  
  
She turned around casually, trying to disguise her unease. One of the women had raised her head from her cleaning a gun and was looking at her with a somewhat neutral expression on her face. Abby’s pulse picked up. Suddenly, the woman smiled brightly reacting to something another woman to her right has just told her.  
  
“Get a grip, Abby,” she muttered to herself, exhaling nervously.  
  
She entered the Ark and headed to medical. She needed to stay busy. There had to be something she could do.

 

 

  
  
  
As she rounded the corner to medical, she saw Jasper waiting for her.  
  
“Jasper, do you need anything?” she asked pushing aside her concerns.  
  
Jasper looked fidgety, glancing around him the two people that were walking by them. A third person was hanging at the back of the hallway.  
  
“Could we talk somewhere private?,” he asked anxious.  
  
Abby looked at him for a moment, gaging his body language.  
  
She stepped into medical and Jasper followed closing the door after him.  
  
“Is everything okay?” she asked, paranoia slowly creeping in.  
  
Jasper took a few steps inside the large room, looking around. They were alone. Abby waited for him, her eyes darting to the tranquilizers that lay on a metal tray near one of the beds.  
  
Satisfied, Jasper turned to look at her with a serious and worried expression on his face.  
  
“It’s Raven”.  
  
Abby’s heartbeat quickened. She should have kept a closer look on her, she chatised herself.  
  
“She took one of the chips,” he begun, “and now it’s doing things to her”.  
  
“Things?” Abby paused, “What are you talking about?”  
  
“She’s making her crazy. She talks to herself. She keeps saying something about getting her out of her mind,” Jasper said hurriedly.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“She talks about someone, a woman. The bitch in red, she calls her,” Jasper said. Even to his ears, the whole thing sound absurd. “I don’t know when was the last time she got any sleep.”  
  
Abby took a moment to take everything in. She was no expert in psychiatry but those symptoms sounded like psychosis. She felt a wave of dread overtake her. The last thing they needed right know was to have some of them turn psychotic.  
  
“I don’t know how I can help her,” Jasper said in frustration. “She's getting worse.”  
  
“She’s going psychotic,” Abby said in a low voice.  
  
Abby got into motion. She rummaged through one of the cupboards and took what she needed and put it in the pocket of her jacket. She turned to look at him.  
  
“All right, Jasper. Tell me everything you know,” she instructed him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Raven’s voice could barely be heard outside her room almost drowned by the loud music. A small group of people had gathered at her door. Some curious. Some just indifferent.  
  
Abby saw the group and walked faster. Jasper right behind her. When they reached Raven’s door, Abby saw Thelonious with a calm expression on his face, just waiting.  
  
Abby took charge.  
  
“Okay, everybody out,” she ordered looking at the people gathered. Some of them started to walk away, others seemed reluctant. Abby was not in the mood. “I said everybody leave, now,” said with a hard tone of voice. She turned to Thelonious who was facing her.  
  
“Raven is with us now, Abby,” he explained conciliatory.  
  
“That doesn’t sound creepy at all”, Jasper commented looking at Jaha.  
  
“We took away her pain, Jasper. We saved her. We can save you too,” Thelonious stepped closer to Jasper, almost getting into his personal space.  
  
“Last chance,” Abby said in a tone that broke no arguments. “Or I will call the guards and have them move you form my patient’s door.”  
  
Thelonious turned to her. Abby awaited his reaction. Jaha tilted his head, as if he were listening to someone.  
  
“You will come around eventually,” he announced as if stating the obvious.  
  
Abby didn’t deign to answer him and could barely suppress the shiver that ran up her spine.  
  
Thelonious looked at them and walked past Abby, who stood aside to let him pass.  
  
Jasper was already knocking on Raven’s door.  
  
  
  
Raven could feel ALIE standing nearby with her usual inexpressive face, her hands neatly clasped before her.  
  
“Why, Raven? Why do you insist in prolonging your pain?”  
  
Raven heard someone knocking on her door and Jasper’s voice calling out to her.  
  
“You can not block me. You can have so much in the City of Light,” ALIE insisted once again.  
  
Raven turned off the radio and almost ran to the door. She cracked it open and when she saw who it was, she opened it wide. Abby stepped in and Raven grabbed Jasper by the hand and pulled him in, closing the door shut after them.  
  
Abby took a good look at Raven. She was disheveled, sweaty, haggard.  
  
Raven looked at her with a frantic expression. Over Abby’s shoulder ALIE stood watching the scene with what seemed like mild interest, her head slightly tilted to one side. Could a program have emotional expression? She looked at her and felt her determination strengthen. Fuck her.  
  
“She’s here,” she said to Abby before the woman could say anything.  
  
Abby turned around. They were alone. She exchanged a look with Jasper who looked scared.  
  
“Raven…”  
  
“No!” Raven snapped. “She’s here. She can listen to us. Everything I see,” she was talking fast, her breathing shallow, “everything I hear, she sees and hears.”  
  
Abby took a step closer to her, determination on her face. She had to help her. She raised her left hand in a placating gesture while her right hand took the injection out  of her pocket.  
  
“It’s okay, Raven,” she said in a soothing tone.  
  
Raven’s eyes shifted to Abby’s hand. “What’s that?”  
  
“Something that will help,” Abby said while getting closer to her  slowly.  
  
Raven looked from the injection to Abby.  She darted her eyes to Jasper who nodded as if encouraging her. It was too much. She was so tired. So so tired.  
  
“I want it to stop,” she said brokenly. “I want it to stop. Make it stop”.  
  
ALIE was watching her closely. “Raven, she can not help you. Only I can. Let me in, Raven.”  
  
Raven clutched her head in her hands. Her face contorted in despair. “Make her go,” she pleaded, almost sobbing. Raven slid to her knees.  
  
“Shhh,” Abby got down to her knees and placed the tip of the injection to Raven’s neck. “This will help. Trust me”.  
  
Raven felt the prick in her neck. She looked up at ALIE. She stood there, watching her.  
  
Abby got in her field of vision. Raven felt boxed in, trapped. Her breathing got faster and faster. ALIE was still there. She had nowhere to hide.  
  
“Raven,” Abby called out to her. “Raven, look at me.” Raven’s eyes shifted to the doctor. Abby’s heart broke for the young woman. She was at her rope’s end. “Listen to me, you have to breath slowly. I need for you to breath slower,” she told her. “I know you can do it”.  
  
“She can not help you, Raven. You will come to me,” ALIE’s voice reached her from somewhere behind her.  
  
“Fuck you,” Raven rasped between clenched teeth.  
  
Raven kept her gaze on Abby. Her heart was pumping furiously. She could feel it thumping against her ribcage, hear it in her ears, beating wildly, almost drowning every other sound. She focused on Abby’s face. She saw her talking but could not hear anything. Raven closed her eyes for a moment. She could do this. She was not giving up. No fucking way in hell.  
  
She opened her eyes. Sounds slowly were coming back in as if someone was slowly rising the volume. Abby was looking at her with a worried expression. She looked over Abby’s shoulder expecting to see ALIE.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She jerked her head fast and looked around her. She stood up gingerly. Abby stood with her, a hand placed on her arm in a gesture of comfort.  
  
Raven stopped for a moment. She could not see her. She could not hear her. She could not feel her. A small smile appeared on her face.  
  
Abby was looking at her intently.  
  
“She’s gone,” she said, relieved. She was free.  
  
“Raven, I need you to take you to medical. I am worr—”  
  
“There’s no time, doctor,” Raven, the old Raven was back. Exhausted, aching, but stronger. “There’s much I have to show you”.  
  
“The medication works,” started to say Abby.  
  
“For now,” Raven said. “You don’t know her. And I may have not much time”.  
  
  
  
The label clearly identified the content in the syringe. Jackson put the injection back in its place and closed the cupboard.  
  
“An anti-psychotic,” ALIE stated. She had not foreseen that. A minor temporary setback.  
  
  
  
“Can it keep you out?” Thelonious asked.  
  
He was back sitting in the small warehouse. He was surrounded  by more people. Their numbers were slowly increasing. Their plan was working. He opened his eyes and looked ahead.  
  
ALIE was sitting in the middle of the room, right in front of him. Her red dress impeccable as always. Not a hair out of place.  
  
“It is only a matter of time. The medication will wear out. She can not block me,” ALIE said looking at Jaha. “We have to watch the doctor.”  
  
Jaha nodded. “We will”.  
  
  
Jackson put the vial back in its place and closed the cupboard.  He was at the door. He took one final look at medical and  turned the lights off, casting the room in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Work was hectic this past week.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get far more interesting from now on.
> 
> Comments are always welcomed. I'd love to hear what you think, what you liked and didn't like.
> 
> Not that the sesaon finale is over, if you are still struggling please reach out to someone, talk, let it out, and if it gets too much, seek professional help. Sometimes we need someone to help us guide us through tough times. It is okay to feel what you feel. Just don't let it distract you from one very important detail: you are loved. You deserve love. 
> 
> My twitter handle is the same @baraka_es I am willing to listen and help you in any way I can. 
> 
> It is okay to grieve. And it is okay to move on. Ste yuj!

The sun had just set over the horizon casting the woods in darkness. The temperature  had dropped and the cool breeze made Harper shiver in her jacket. She looked up among the trees tops trying to see the clouds she had seen late in the afternoon silhouetted in the moonlight. She could smell the rain in the breeze. A distant thunder echoed in the valley. She hated standing watch in the rain. She glanced in Miller’s direction. She could barely see him staked out not far from the half-hidden trail that led to the cave. He was a good marksman.  
  
She just hoped she could find a spot that would shelter her from the rain before going back to the cave.  
  
She approached his position. She had taken a look at their surroundings. Not too far. Not venturing even close to the blockade line. She did not want to draw the Grounders’ attention.  
  
The sound was faint. A soft snort. A horse? She stopped and tilted her head, straining to hear. A shuffling sound. Someone dragging their feet. Someone was walking down the trail. She crouched near a bush, hoping it would hide her presence long enough.  
  
She raised her rifle, glancing over her shoulder in Miller’s direction hoping he had her covered. She turned her attention back to the trail. A shape emerged from the shadows. One person. Walking. Her eyes darted left and right. Was he alone?  
  
They kept walking toward her, shuffling their feet. A tired traveler, perhaps? It made no sense. Given the current situation, no one would risk traveling at night unless they absolutely had to. So, whoever it was, they were either in trouble or were trouble themselves…  
  
She held her gun steady and aimed at the body. Maybe she could get a clear shot to the head.  
  
The person noticed her presence and stopped, slowly raising their hands. He then continued walking slowly until he stopped a few yards from her. That short stretch was bathed in the moonlight that managed to filter through the trees.  
  
Harper looked intently at them. Recognition suddenly dawned on her face which then gave way to incredulity.  
  
“Murphy?” She rose from her hiding place and gave a few tentative steps towards him, steering clear of Miller’s angle should anything go wrong. She lowered her rifle. Was it really him?  
  
As the man got closer, she finally saw his features clearly. The iconic sardonic smile. Yep. It was him.  
  
“Long time no see, Harper,” he said as he got closer. “Miss me?”  
  
Harper relaxed her grip on her weapon. But before she could say anything, she heard the cocking of a weapon close to her head. She froze on the spot. She started to turn her head, cursing herself for her mistake.  
  
“Don’t,” Clarke said in a low voice.  
  
Harper looked at Murphy.  
  
“Had no choice, really,” he said with a shrug.  
  
Clarke took Harper’s gun and without taking her aim at Harper’s head, she put the other gun in the small of her back.  
  
“Harper?” Miller asked, “You okay?”  
  
Harper turned her head to look in the direction of Miller’s voice. The young man was walking towards her, hands behind his head. A large man walked right behind him. A Grounder. Her pulse quickened. She shifted her gaze to Clarke.  
  
“I don’t—”  
  
“Who’s with you?” Clarke demanded to know.  
  
Harper’s eyes shifted between Clarke and Murphy. They were helping the Grounders, why?  
  
“Who are you with?” repeated Clarke.  
  
“Marcus and Octav—”  
  
The sudden whine of a horse startled her. A mounted figure approached from the left side of the trail.  
  
Harper’s eyes widened.  
  
“What—?” Miller started to say.  
  
“But… but,… we were told she was dead,” Harper managed to mutter looking at Clarke and Murphy.  
  
Murphy snorted, amused.  
  
  
  


* * *

 

  
Abby looked at Raven with a mixture of awe and dread. The schematics on the board did make sense to her. But it was the implications of Raven’s story she was having trouble with.  
  
Her stomach had long ago tied in knots out of fear. Grounders now were only a minor inconvenience compared to the threat the AI, ALIE, posed. She squared her jaw and focus on what Raven was telling them.  
  
Raven paused in her explanation.  
  
“So, earlier… You could see her. I mean…,” Abby asked with dread.  
  
Raven nodded. She was haggard and frazzled. Fighting this AI was taking a heavy toll mentally and physically.  
  
“Yes! Yes!” Raven inhaled deeply trying to stay focused. “Abby, I don’t know how much longer I have,” God, she did not have the time to explain every single detail. They needed to move fast before ALIE came back into her mind. The anti-psychotic Abby had given her would not stop the AI. She had to make the most out of it. “The wristbands are our only option I can come up with now,” Raven continued pointing to the board.  
  
“I am familiar with them. I designed them,” Abby agreed with Raven. “Jasper,” she called. The young man immediately stepped forward. He had been standing at the back, listening.  
  
“Go to my office in medical. Second drawer on the left. The access code is—”  
  
“No!” Raven almost shouted. She covered her ears with her hand and looked at Abby. “It’s better if I don’t know. I can’t know,” she said turning around to look at one wall.  
   
Taken aback by Raven’s reaction, Abby nodded slowly, approached Jasper and whispered something into his ear. The young man pulled away for an instant with a puzzled expression on his face. Raven kept her back to them. Abby steeled her expression and gave Jasper an encouraging nod.  
  
“Okay,” he murmured, and, with a last look at Raven, left the room.  
  
Abby approached Raven and touched her shoulder. The young woman turned, lowering her hands. The bags under her eyes were darker. A sign of the punishment her body was taking.  
  
Abby looked at a clock. They were running out of time.  
  
“Okay,” Abby said, “step by step”.  
  
Raven started drawing on the board. Her mind racing. Her pulse quick. Maybe she was becoming paranoid but she could swear ALIE was prodding at the edges of her consciousness.  
  
With a fierce determination, Raven set out to explain everything to Abby. If she couldn’t keep ALIE at bay, Abby was her only hope.

 

* * *

 

  
  
The fire crackled pulling Marcus out of his thoughts. He took a look around him. Sinclair and Bryan were cleaning their weapons while Bellamy, still shackled, was slumped against the wall. His injuries had been cleaned but his face was bruised and swollen. He would steal glances in Octavia’s direction from time to time. He had a longing expression on his face. He suddenly stiffened as if he felt he was being watched and looked to Marcus who met his stare. Bellamy held his gaze for a moment and then hanged his head, turning his body slightly away.  
  
Marcus didn’t know if he could trust the young man. It didn’t matter how Bellamy had pleaded he had change his opinion about Pike. That he had realized he had make a mistake. They all had made mistakes. He was the first one to acknowledge his own. He still had nightmares about them. But Bellamy’s role in the killing showed a side of his personality so dark Marcus did not know how to deal with.  
  
He poked the fire with a twig, saw it catch fire and his mind got lost in the flame.  
  
He heard Sinclair sitting down next to him, near the fire, and busied himself with one of the backpacks they had managed to take with them. Bryan was finishing mounting the weapons back.  
  
“We’re gonna need a hell of a plan if we’re going to take Pike down,” Sinclair muttered. “Six against all the guards?”  
  
Bellamy shifted in his position, suddenly interested in the conversation.  
  
Marcus gave Sinclair a noncommittal hum. He tore his gaze away from the flame.  
  
“Let’s wait for Harper and Miller. Six heads think better than two,” he said with a weak smile.  
  
Sinclair nodded. He put his weapon next to him and held his hands out in front of the fire to warm them.  
  
A low sudden hiss reached their ears. They turned their attention to the sound.  
  
Octavia had crouched at the cave’s entrance and was stepping further inside the cave, pressing her body along one of the walls, hiding in the shadows. She had drawn her sword. Someone was coming.  
  
Byran, Sinclair and Marcus got up. They picked up their weapons and moved away from the fire, taking positions. They aimed at the entrance.  
  
A silhouetted figure walked up to the entrance and stopped. Only a second or two later, another two figures joined it.  
  
Octavia was the first one to recognize them.  
  
“Clarke,” she said lowering her sword. Last she saw her she had given her an ultimatum. Her eyes then found Murphy. The young man just looked at her in passing and went straight for the fire, nodding to Marcus as he walked by.  
  
The third figure was unmistakable. Octavia stared at her as Lexa came to stand beside Clarke.  
  
“Commander,” she said a little shocked and with a slight bow of her head. Her gaze focused on Clarke searching for an explanation.  
  
Marcus and Sinclair reached them. Marcus was already holding out his arm to Lexa. He looked at her, his eyes welcoming. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe there was hope after all.  
  
“Commander,” he said, “I am glad to see you’re alright.”  
  
“Thank you,” Lexa said formally, nodding slightly and shaking Marcus’s forearm.  
  
Clarke looked at them. They needed to get down to business.  
  
“We need to talk.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The main street leading to the tower was practically deserted. She had met the sentries posted at the gates. Azgeda warriors. They had looked at her with mild interest but did not asked her any questions. She pushed away her exhaustion. Her shoulder still hurt. The market stands were closed for the night. The torches kept the street dimly lit. Her body screamed at her to get some rest but not before she met with someone.  
  
She heard the faint echo of a woman’s voice, singing. The smell of a fire reached her. It was an unique and unmistakable odor. The acrid and sweet smell of flesh burning. The pyre. The ceremony had begun.  
  
She steered towards the main square a short distance away.  
  
The squared was packed. She used her elbows discreetly to make her way closer to the center. She received some annoyed stares but pushed forward until she reached the front line.  
  
The pyre sat at the center of the square. The bodies were already engulfed in flames. The wood sparked and crackled sending a column of smoke up into the night sky. The smell was very strong. Some people had covered their mouth and nose to ward it off. It was the kind of smell you could never forget.  She shifted her gaze towards the stand. She saw Titus sitting to the left of the new commander. Ontari.  
  
Indra felt a wave of repulse. She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. Lexa’s fears were now confirmed. Her gaze shot to the pyre again where Aden’s body was burning and then returned to the new commander. The young woman had a bored expression on her face. Roan stood behind her while the ambassadors sat at their respective chairs. It was a time to honor the Fallen. A sacred ceremony.  
  
She bowed her head and said a silent prayer for the young Natblidas. A sudden collective gasp from the surrounding crowd interrupted her. She looked up.  
  
Ontari was making her way to the side of the stand. She was leaving in the middle of the ceremony. And Roan was right behind her. The singer faltered, looking at Titus for a clue as to what she should do. The song died down.  
  
A shocked expression flashed on Titus’s face that he managed to school almost immediately. The ambassadors shifted in their seats and started to mutter amongst themselves, watching closely for Titus’s reaction.  
  
Indra felt her blood boil seeing Ontari stepping down the stand and making her way back to the Tower, with Roan tagging along. No commander, ever, had dishonored the Fallen in such a way. No commander, ever, had disrespected their traditions so blatantly. The Fallen had spent their lives training and learning to become leaders. They were chosen. It was their birthright and their duty. They gave their lives for their people. They sacrificed themselves. The commander always stayed after the flames had died down. It was a tribute. And it was sacred.  
  
People fell silent around her and looked at the Fleimkepa.  
  
The man kept his face neutral. It was business as usual. Nothing was amiss. He stayed in his chair and made a gesture with his hand to proceed with the ceremony. The singer picked up the song again. The anthem continued.  
  
Indra glanced in the direction Ontari had left. She hadn’t missed the four Azgeda warriors that had joined her as soon as she stepped down. Her personal bodyguards.  
  
She slowly made her way closer to the stand, closer to Titus. People murmured shocked by the new commander’s behavior. But she was Heda. No one would dare to challenge her.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Lexa kept her body in check, controlling her body language. She had felt everybody’s occasional glances since their arrival but she did not care. Too much was at risk. She repressed the need to rub her chest again to get rid of that strange sensation and forced herself to focus her attention on the conversation. The plan was already formed. Everyone knew what they had to do tomorrow at dawn. The question was what to do after they took over.  
  
“If you give them Pike, the new commander may not respect the blockade,” she said.  
  
Marcus looked at them in confusion. “We are the thirteenth clan. We could ask for an audience with the council of ambassadors and the commander.”  
  
Clarke glanced at Lexa for a second before she began to explain.  
  
“There is a possibility the new commander might be Ontari,” Clarke said. Nobody recognized the name. Clarke chastised herself. They probably didn’t know about Queen Nia and Lexa’s duel with Roan. “She is Azgeda. They have their own agenda.”  
  
“If Ontari ascends as the new commander, she will vow to destroy Skaikru. Giving her Pike will achieve nothing,” Lexa stated.  
  
“So now he’s more valuable inside Arkadia than outside?” Sinclair asked incredulous.  
  
“He has to pay for what he’s done,” Octavia said ominously.  
  
Lexa shot a look at Octavia. She knew what the Skygirl was feeling. She had been there. Her gaze shifted to Clarke and her heart hurt. She could not go through that again. Not with Clarke. The sole idea of losing Clarke made her physically sick. Even if she had to pay with her life, she would make sure Clarke lived.  
  
“And he will,” Marcus conceded to her, “but right now our priority is to take him down”.  
  
“I can help,” Bellamy said from his corner.  
  
Octavia glared at him but Bellamy pressed forward.  
  
“If you show up at the gates, Pike will not hesitate to shoot you,” he started to make his case.  
  
Octavia scoffed. Now he wanted to be a hero?  
  
Bellamy glanced at her. He tried to move closer to them. The shackles rankling. But he could not go far. The chains did not allowed him much freedom.  
  
“If Marcus shows up, Pike will know something’s up. I can bait him to let us in.”  
  
“How?” Clarke asked with an edge in her voice. Bellamy looked at her and saw distrust clearly written on her face.  
  
“We can pretend Grounders have killed Marcus when he tried to negotiate our way through the blockade. We managed to run away and I have convinced the group that returning to Arkadia is our only choice. I am there to convince Pike not to kill them, to give them a chance. Marcus is already dead. Grounders will try to attack us and we will need all the hands we can get to wage war.” Bellamy continued, “The second group will go as planned, with Marcus.”  
  
They remained silent for a moment.  
  
“What if he doesn’t believe you?” Octavia asked.  
  
“Then I’ll kill him”, Bellamy said.  
  
“Yeah, right”, she said sarcastically.  
  
“It sounds like a good option,” Marcus admitted looking at the rest of the group.  
  
Clarke exchanged a look with Lexa who nodded ever so slightly. She loathed to admit it but Bellamy’s plan made sense.  
  
“And after we do that?” Harper asked, “What are we going to do?”  
  
“We go to war,” Lexa said.  
  
Everyone turned to look at her.  
  
“There is no avoiding it,” she continued. “Ontari will try to submit all clans to her. But some will turn against her. There will be war between the clans. And Arkadia is in a vulnerable position”.  
  
“We will help in any way we can,” Marcus stated looking at Lexa. “We are the thirteenth clan.”  
  
Lexa looked at him and a faint smile graced her lips. A vote of confidence. From former chancellor to former Heda.  
  
“I may no longer be commander,” Lexa said, her gaze shifting to Clarke for a second before focusing again on Marcus. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my resources. Help is on the way.”  
  
Marcus nodded in understanding. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I do not post warnings for I believe stories take you on a journey of discovery where you don't know what awaits you at the next turn. At its core, that's what storytelling is all about. A discovery.
> 
> This time, I feel I should warn you. There is a torture scene at the end of the chapter. If you are strill struggling with the aftermath of ep 307 or the subject makes you uncomfortable, skip the last part. I'll post another chapter in the coming days.
> 
> Again, comments are deeply appreciated. Tell me what you like and dislike. What you think it's going to happen. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

Jasper sighed relieved. Abby’s office was empty. He wanted to go in and out as fast as he could. He moved quickly through the room and knelt down next to the desk. He punched in the access code and heard a soft click. He opened the drawer.  
  
Several wristbands lie in it. He shivered remembering their first few days on Earth, the discussions about whether to keep them or not, the bonfire that destroyed them. He pushed those thoughts aside. If he didn’t act quickly no one would remember anything. Good or bad.  
  
He put two wristbands in the small bag and pushed the drawer closed. The locking mechanism activated immediately.  
  
He got up and took a look around. No one would notice he’d been there. He’d been careful. He exited the office and crossed medical on his way to the door.  
  
He peered around the door frame and ventured onto the corridor. The bag firmly held in his hands.  
  
He advanced through the corridors quickly. He felt the urge to run but he feared that if he ran into someone he would have a hard time explaining what he was doing. Two guards rounded a corner up ahead and walked towards him.  
  
Jasper’s steps faltered. He unconsciously grabbed the bag a little bit closer to his body. He could not turn around now. His eyes darted to the doors along the corridor. Maybe he could enter one of the rooms. Maybe if they hadn’t seen him yet… He looked up. One of the guards was looking at him with mild curiosity.  
  
Jasper swallowed hard. He started walking again. When he reached them, he nodded slightly, trying hard not to give away the fear he felt.  
  
He passed them by. He decided to turn that corner and get out of their sight.  
  
“Hey, Jasper,” one of the guards called.  
  
Jasper stopped and slowly turned around. He plastered a fake smile on his face and hoped they didn’t notice.  
  
“Hey”  
  
The guard came closer. His companion trailing behind him.  
  
“You okay?” he asked. “You look pale.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Jasper lied through his teeth. A pause. What was the guy’s name? “I’m okay, really… Mark.”  
  
The man watched him for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he said nodding.  
  
Jasper smiled and turned around before they decided to keep talking. He rounded the corner and walked briskly to the turn to the left. He reached the end of the corridor and turned right again.  
  
And almost bumped into Claire,a young woman from Farm Station. He had noticed her before, in a painful, uncomfortable way. She bore a striking resemblance to Maya. Jasper stood frozen on the spot. Memories flooding his mind. His heart twisted in pain. He swallowed back tears.  
  
Claire smiled sweetly at him. “Hi, Jasper.”  
  
It took a moment for Jasper to react. Her voice was so different though. And so was her facial expression. He cleared his throat and managed to mutter a response, quickly stepping around her, and kept walking down the corridor.  
  
He looked over his shoulder a few seconds later. Claire was still looking at him. The sweet smile had been replaced by a somewhat neutral expression. A person turned the corner. The guard, Mark, almost bumped into Claire and stopped to talk to her. He glanced briefly in his direction. Jasper didn’t stop to analyze. He kept going.  
  
“He is carrying a bag,” ALIE stated. She stood between the girl and the guards. Her gaze fixed on the retreating figure.  
  
  
  
She stood in the storage room and turned to look at the man to her right. “Find what it is”.  
  
Jackson got up and left the storage room. He plastered a  pleasant smile on his lips as he walked down the corridor searching for Jasper.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Clarke had the feeling dinner was going to be short-lived. With a definite plan to infiltrate Arkadia, everyone knew how important was to try to get some sleep. They had spread throughout the cave. Argus had taken first watch. Miller would take second. They all hoped the following night they would be sleeping in their bunks or at least in a more comfortable place.  
  
Octavia had opted to leave the cave. The looks she’d been giving her brother were nothing short of murderous. She didn’t like the idea of Bellamy now offering his help. Too late for that. Lincoln was dead because of him.  
  
Clarke knew how she felt. Her eyes darted to Lexa who was sitting next to Marcus, both caught up in a hushed conversation. Lexa glanced in her direction and gave her one her soft smiles. Clarke could not help but answer with one of her own. Her stomach fluttering. Lexa seemed to always be aware of where she was. Marcus looked between the two of them. If he was surprised by their silent exchange, he hid it well.  
  
Clarke averted her gaze and decided to busy herself. She took some food and headed towards Bellamy.  
  
He was sitting with his back resting on the wall. His head hung low. After proposing his new plan he asked to be released, saying they could trust him now. Marcus had not agreed and Bellamy had remained silent ever since.  
  
Clarke’s footsteps alerted him. He looked up. He tried to smile but the swelling of his face turned his smile into a grimace. She felt sorry for him. Then, she remembered he was one of the people responsible for killing Lexa’s army. She remembered an injured Indra, the physical and mental toll it had taken on the proud warrior would take a long time to heal. She didn’t know how, or if, she would ever be able to look at him with something other than disgust. His actions had had a series of consequences that were yet to be seen. Lexa’s brush with death was only one of them.  
  
She handed a small bowl with some rabbit meat. He took the bowl  and set it aside. His gaze fixed on her.  
  
She stood rooted for a couple of seconds until she realized she didn’t know what they could talk about. She started to turn.  
  
“Clarke,” he called softly.  
  
She turned to face him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said in earnest.  
  
Clarke let the words hang in the air. Were they enough? She remembered the bodies of three hundred people scattered throughout the camp, the look of horror Lexa could not even hide, the shocked expressions on the bodies, the eerie silence surrounding the camp, the acrid smell of blood seeping into the earth as the warriors who had been sent there to protect her people had been slaughtered at their hands. No. Sorry was not enough. Would never be enough.  
  
“How could you?” she asked in a low voice, bending down to look him in the face. She knew it was not the time for an argument. But it was a question that burned her soul.  
  
Bellamy lowered his eyes. “I didn’t know. I swear. We thought…” he started to reason.  
  
Clarke inhaled deeply. “You thought wrong, Bellamy,” she said.  
  
Bellamy looked at her. “What were we supposed to do? You have an army of Grounders at your doorstep and do nothing? Wait for them to attack us?”  
  
“You never bothered to find out. They were there to defend you… us”.  
  
“Us? What us, Clarke?” he hissed. “You left, remember? You left your people.  Then, you hid in Polis with Lexa.” His last words were full of venom. “You’ve become one of them,” he finished with a gesture indicating the former commander. “I was protecting my people. I did the same thing you did at Mount Weather.”  
  
“The same thing?” Clarke was fuming. “You had a choice. I had none. There was no other choice. They were going to kill them. That army was sent here to protect you… us. They did nothing to provoke an attack. They had strict orders from Lexa to defend you from the Azgeda or anyone who wanted to attack Arkadia,” she said hotly. “Lexa risked everything to save us…” she chocked at her own words. The lump in her throat prevented her from talking. The image of Lexa’s lifeless body intruded again in her mind. She shook her head trying to dispel the memory. _She did it for me_ , her mind added. She looked at him and did not recognize him. Is this what survival was doing to all of them? Twisting their ethics, their values to justify what otherwise would be inexcusable, unforgivable? Had she changed for the worse as well?  
  
“It all comes down to Lexa, huh?” he said in a low voice. His eyes were filled with regret, pain, and something else.  
  
Clarke straightened her back. She did not want to deny her feelings for Lexa but she realized they were going to have to be careful as to how open they wanted to be. Still, she was not going to take any crap from anyone if they confronted her.  
  
She fixed him with a hard stare. “Yes,” she said firmly.  
  
Bellamy took the news in. He gave her a small nod and his eyes darted over to where Lexa was talking to Marcus.  
  
“You should eat,” Clarke told him indicating the bowl. She did not wait for his reaction. She stood up and walked over to Lexa.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Abby stood frozen in place. Her hands out in a silent gesture to placate the distraught young woman that stood in front of her.  
  
Raven was holding her head with both hands as if trying to pry it open and take out whatever it was that was haunting her.  
  
“Get out, you bitch!” she screamed at the top of her lungs looking at somewhere to Abby’s right. Her face was red from shouting. Her eyes open wide. She was sweating. Her body trembling. She clenched her eyes closed and gave another scream in torture.  
  
The pain. It was overwhelming. She could not breathe. Could not think. Her entire body was alight in agony. Every nerve ending was firing rapidly in waves. Her muscles contracting in painful response.  
  
_She felt the impact in her lower back, throwing her to the ground. The pain seared her mind. The bullet burned inside her back. The heat radiating through her entire body. She felt her legs giving out beneath her._  
  
She gasped and opened her eyes. She was in her quarters. She was standing. Abby was looking at her with a stricken expression on her face. She tried to ground herself to her surroundings, to Abby.  
  
ALIE stood patiently, hands folded before her, with her stupid calm expression on her face. “You can have so much more, Raven. Why do you want to feel pain?” She tilted her head as if trying to understand an incomprehensible riddle.  
  
“Because you stole my memories, you crazy bitch!” She looked at Abby who stood helplessly a few feet away. “Please, Abby.”  
  
_Clarke whispered into Finn’s ear. Raven saw him lower his head and then Clarke stepped away from him with the bloodied knife in her hand. The crimson stain on his shirt was growing rapidly. No. No. No, it can’t be. She killed him! He was dead! She screamed again. The pain tearing at her heart, breaking her mind._  
  
She panted furiously. Her lungs burned. Her mind did not have time to absorb any of the images or sensations that kept hitting her. Everything was jumbled, distorted, exacerbated.  
  
She focused on Abby with everything that she got. She was not going to give in to ALIE. She had to keep her back to the board. ALIE could not know.  
  
The AI approached her and stood only a few feet away from her almost shoulder to shoulder with Abby who looked at her crying, helpless. She was talking to her but she couldn’t hear her.  
  
_The sound of a drilling machine drowned Abby’s words. She felt her leg trembling, the reverberations spreading rocking her body, and a moment later felt an intense pain shooting up her leg._  
  
She yelled in utter torment. Her voice getting hoarse with each passing second till it became a silent scream. The leg gave in and she fell to the ground. She started sobbing. Agony coursed through her body in waves, each wave stronger than the one before. She was having trouble breathing. She could not concentrate. Could not think. She closed her eyes.  
  
“Make it stop, please. Make it stop. I can’t…” Raven begged between labored breaths. “Please, stop…,” she sobbed.  
  
“You could have had everything,” ALIE said. “You still can.”  
  
Raven looked at the AI. Her thoughts were disjointed, mumbled. The pain was immense, overpowering. Her skin felt raw, exposed. Her insides burned bright hot. Her mind was disintegrating. She could not take it. She wanted it to stop. She wailed in despair.  
  
Out the corner of her eye, she saw the door open and Jasper burst in. The man stopped dead on his tracks looking at her wide-eyed. Abby ran to him. Raven could not hear what they were saying. She felt lightheaded and weak. Her body trembled in shock.  
  
_The shock wave threw her to the ground. The heat seared her skin. She felt the impact. The wind got knocked out of her. Her head hit the ground, stunning her for a moment. The smell of smoke and fire filled her nostrils chocking her. She could not breathe._  
  
_She could not breathe._  
  
_Could not breathe._  
  
_Breathe. She could not breathe._  
  
Raven opened her eyes wide. She was breathing erratically, gasping. Each breath was a struggle. She could hear her heart thumping wildly in her ears. Another wave started coursing through her body. It was unbearable. It was… Oh, God!  
  
“Stop,” she begged, gasping. “Please, stop it.”  
  
Her body twisted in pain on the floor. The last thing she was conscious of was the schematics drawn on the board. Then her mind gave up.  


	12. Chapter 12

Abby frantically stole the bag from Jasper’s fingers. The young man was so stunned at Raven’s semi-unconscious body that he stood rooted to the floor.  
  
“I… I got everything,” he stammered. He managed to look away from Raven and focus on Abby.  
  
The doctor had opened the bag and was taking the injections out. She rushed over to Raven and checked her pulse. She sighed, relieved. Raven opened her eyes. Her expression completely neutral. Her gaze flicked to one side. Abby followed her gaze. The board. The schematics.  
  
“Call security,” she ordered. She had to act now.  
  
“Wh-what happened?”  
  
“Jasper! Now!”  
  
Jasper reacted and rushed outside.  
  
Abby took the cap off to one of the injections and pressed the tip to Raven’s neck emptying the plunger. She heard a soft hiss as the liquid was propelled into the girl’s body. Raven’s eyes fluttered closed. Her body relaxed.  
  
“It wore off much earlier than I expected,” she muttered to herself. She touched Raven’s head and neck, looking for signs of trauma from her fall. Nothing. She pressed her head against Raven’s forehead and mouthed a thank-you.  
  
Fighting back tears, she rapidly checked the rest of her body. Nothing stood out. Raven showed no signs of injury. But still, she would have to examine her further in medical. She heard footsteps approaching. She looked up.  
  
Jasper raced into Raven’s quarters. “She okay”?  
  
“She will be. I sedated her,” Abby said, thinking on her feet. The guards would be coming in no time. She looked at the board. She wasn’t sure what had happened when Raven had opened her eyes. But those drawings had to go. She prayed she could remember everything Raven had told her. She nodded indicating the board. “Erase that.”  
  
Jasper looked between the board and Abby. “But—”  
  
“Do it, Jasper,” she said. “We can’t risk it.”  
  
Jasper approached the board and started to erase the drawings hastily.  
  
A few seconds later, they could hear people running in the corridors. The sounds growing louder. Closer.  
  
Abby looked at him square in the eye. “Not one word. Let me handle this.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Abby stood up and went to meet the guards. Jasper looked at the unconscious Raven. He then saw the bag discarded not far from her body. He grabbed the bag. Looking around he found Raven’s jacket. He bundled the bag in Raven’s jacket and prayed no one would get curious.  
  
Abby walked in. Two guards entered the room right after her. Jasper nodded nervously at the guards. Mark and his companion.  
  
He heard Abby asking them for their help to carry Raven to medical. Both men agreed immediately. With a look, Mark took Raven in his arms.  
  
“Jasper”  
  
Jasper snapped out of his daze and looked in the direction of the voice. Abby was gesturing him to follow her. He hurried up out of the room. A small group of people had gathered outside alerted by the commotion. He sensed someone was behind him and stepped aside.  
  
Mark carried Raven in his arms, Abby was right beside them. Jasper followed them. He heard Mark’s companion telling people to go back to their business.  
  
Jasper glanced back for a second. The group was already disbanding. But a couple of people seemed to take their time. He looked at the guard who followed him. He seemed annoyed at having their routine disrupted for a woman passing out in her quarters. Jasper turned his attention back to Abby and Raven.  
  
  
  
ALIE cocked her head to one side and looked at Jaha.  
  
“She may have discovered a way to stop me,” she said. “Are there any more wristbands?  
  
Jaha looked a little puzzled for a second before answering. “Yes. We built more than we needed. I think there must be a few of them still around the station.”  
  
“Go find them,” ALIE ordered.  
  
A large group of her followers got up and made their way outside the store room in silence.  
  
ALIE looked again at Jaha. “I will gain access to Raven tomorrow. You have to be ready.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Clarke walked back to Marcus and Lexa. The short exchange with Bellamy had left her unsettled, leaving out in the open some questions she had avoided facing. She watched Lexa as she got closer to them. The Grounder didn’t change her facial expression but Clarke could see her eyes subtly lighting up.  
  
“Hey,” she said coming to stand in front of them.  
  
“How did it go with Bellamy?” Marcus asked, nodding in Bellamy’s direction.  
  
Clarke glanced at Bellamy who had starting eating. She felt a pang of anger and resentment. “Fine,” she said sharply. She did not want to go into detail. She was tired and she just wanted to spend some time with Lexa. Bellamy’s comment had brought up something they needed to discuss. Lexa had been able to protect her in Polis, and probably while she went away after the events at Mount Weather. But could she do the same for her in Arkadia? How would her people react to having Lexa, of all Grounders, inside their walls? “Difficult,” she added in a more conciliatory tone. “I don’t trust him,” she added.  
  
Marcus nodded. Bellamy had just started his path for redemption and judging from Clarke’s expression, he had a very long way to make amends.    
  
“He has a chance to prove himself”, Marcus answered. “We all deserve one.”  
  
Clarke shot a look at Marcus. Did everyone deserve another chance? She glanced back at Bellamy and then Lexa, who watched her with a guarded expression. Yes, everyone deserved another chance. True. But once they had shown guilt and wanted to do better. Judging from Bellamy’s words, guilt was not even in the picture. As usual, he resorted to blaming someone else but himself. Blaming her. She was tired of apologizing. ‘People die when you’re in charge’. Bellamy’s words resonated again in her head. Finn, Maya, the people at Mount Weather… Lexa. And now, she was coming back to her people to help. Maybe she had indeed earned her title as Wanheda. Commander of Death. Everyone died around her.  
  
“I need some air,” she said. “Excuse me.”  
  
She locked eyes with Lexa for a second and hoped she would respect her need for time. The Grounder gave her a slight nod. Concern evident in her eyes.  
  
Clarke left the cave and headed to the left. There was a narrow winding path that led away to higher ground. Her steps faltered when she saw Murphy and Harper walking down that same path towards her. She kept going, intent on not slowing down. She was not in the mood for a chat.  
  
Harper locked eyes with her for a second in passing but Murphy slowed down until Harper was out of earshot.  
  
“Does she know?” he asked point-blank when Clarke reached him.  
  
Clarke advanced a few steps but then stopped and turned to look at him. “Know what?”  
  
Murphy gave her a smug grin. “Does your girlfriend know that the Commander’s spirit is an AI designed to take over the world?”  
  
Clarke felt her blood ran cold. She set her jaw and walked back the few steps that separated her from Murphy until she was almost nose to nose with him. She balled her hands into fists and fought the urge to punch his stupid grin off his face.  
  
Realizing how his words had sounded, he sobered up his expression. “She deserves to know,” he added in a softer tone taking Clarke by surprise. “Just saying. That’s all,” with a last look, he walked away, heading back to the cave.  
  
Clarke stood rooted to the ground. Murphy being nice? Was that even possible? She shook her head and continued her way up the path until she reached higher ground a short time later. She entered a small clearing not far from the trail and slowed down to a stop. She could still hear the thunders rolling in the distance but growing weaker as the storm moved away from them. The air though still smelled like rain. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the night air fill her lungs. She loved this smell.  
  
She opened her eyes and stared at the top of the trees. The stars were barely visible. She listened intently hearing an owl hooting softly not far from her. She immersed herself in the moment and looked around. There was no bio-luminescent plants in this part of the forest. Everything was cast in relative darkness. The moonlight was barely able to penetrate the top of the trees. But the three months she had spent on her own had taught her to trust her instincts. There were no predators here.  
  
She stood there just being and let her senses take over, trying to empty her mind.  She let the cool night breeze blow strands of her hair across her face. That was one of the things that had surprised her upon their forced arrival on Earth: the wind. It gave her a sensation of freedom, something that could never be caged or locked up.  
  
After the first couple of weeks of her self-imposed exile from Arkadia, she had come to learn and appreciate the freedom the forest gave her. She had learned its rhythms, the animals that prowled these parts, the plants that grew up, the moss that helped her cure small cuts and bruises, the one that helped her with a cold. She had missed the forest. Here, she did not have to give account to anyone but herself. No one for company but her pain, her rage… and her self-hatred. And although it had been some tough three months, she realized she had missed this. She had missed not being responsible for anyone but herself. Here, she felt at peace. Here, and with Lexa.  
  
A sudden gust of wind made her shiver. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and inhaled the aroma of the damp earth beneath her feet, the surrounding pine trees and the musty smell of the bushes nearby. The respite, however, was over. Her mind started going in all directions.  
  
Was Bellamy right? Had she turned into “one of them”? Lexa had changed how she saw Grounders.  
  
Her days in Polis, her relationship with Lexa… Had she changed that much? She recalled her conversation with Lexa when they were heading back to Arkadia with the body of Queen Nia. ‘Not sure where home is now,’ she had said. Arkadia was still her home but it had also become an obligation, a responsibility. Whereas Polis… She was more useful to her people in Polis. As an ambassador, she could achieve much more in the capital than in Arkadia. That’s what she had told herself and others. But now she realized Lexa was her home. The thought startled her. It was not Arkadia, not Polis, or her responsibilities as an ambassador. It was Lexa.  
  
¿And what was she going to tell her? How? That the Flame was an AI? That all the commanders had been carrying a piece of silicon in the back of their heads since the beginning? The idea had not left her mind since the night before in Polis. She feared having to tell Lexa that the Grounder’s belief system, what made her a commander, what symbolized her role as a leader, was based on a piece of technology. That there was another chip hellbent on taking over the world.  
  
She breathed slowly, trying to calm down. _Think Clarke, think_. The 2.0 chip was in Titus’ hands. If Ontari had indeed ascended, she would take the chip. The real threat was the other AI, ALIE. And Jaha. Her mother had mentioned in passing that Jaha had returned to Arkadia. Whatever happened tomorrow, she had to talk to him. Their plan had to work. Once she knew for certain what they were up against, then she would tell Lexa. But not tonight.  
  
Soft footsteps caught her attention. She knew who it was. She recognized her footfalls without turning around.  
  
Lexa walked up to her slowly, giving her time to her know if her presence was welcomed or not. Clarke watched her. She had always kept her distance when in the presence of others, well aware of how other people might construe her budding relationship with the Commander and trying to figure out where she stood with Lexa. But now… Now she was unsure of how to behave with Lexa around other people. And it bothered her. They hadn’t talked about them. She did not want her people to start questioning her relationship with Lexa. The attraction was undeniable. Their bond was undeniable. It wasn’t just sex although she had to admit it had been the best she’s ever had. It was so much more and that was a little bit scary. Lexa saw her for who she was… not for what she wanted her to be.  
  
“Clarke, are you all right?” Lexa asked softly trying to read her expression.  
  
Clarke nodded. The look of affection and concern on Lexa’s face was unmistakable. She watched Lexa as she approached and took one of her hands in her own, softly caressing her knuckles with her thumb. Clarke found solace in the small gesture, in that physical connection.  
  
“Yeah…,” Clarke murmured looking down at their intertwining hands. She was going back home but it didn’t feel like it. Not anymore. She knew she had to go back. Her people needed her. ‘ _You’ve become one of them_ ’ Bellamy’s words came back. Had she really? She was worried about her people but she was scared for Lexa. “I am worried about tomorrow,” she offered as an explanation.  
  
“You are over thinking, Clarke” Lexa said with the barest of smirks. “You will tire yourself worrying over something you have no control over.”  
  
Clarke looked up, remembering the last time she had heard Lexa telling her something similar. It was before the attack on Mount Weather. Lexa had probably lived this type of situation countless times. An ambassador had tried to kill her not two days ago and a short time later she had found Lexa sitting on the floor in her room calmly meditating. Instead of killing Nia, Lexa had allowed the combat to the death to happen. But not before making Aden vow to swear fealty to the Sky People. How she could remain so calm in the midst of everything was unnerving.  
  
“The plan is a good one. We will succeed,” Lexa said with confidence. Clarke kept that concentrated expression on her face. Lexa sighed and raised her left hand to caress Clarke’s face.  
  
It was tender, loving and so unlike the hard and ruthless warrior Lexa could be. Clarke realized she got to see a side of Lexa very few people had ever had the chance to see. She felt privileged. She felt loved. Clarke closed the remaining space between them kissing Lexa’s lips softly. Lexa happily returned it, sliding her arms around her, pressing their bodies closer. Clarke surrendered to her, her arms went around Lexa’s neck. They kept it soft and unhurried, taking their time, lingering. It was about connecting again. About reaffirming their bond. A bond that they had yet to defined in words but both felt it could shape the rest of their lives.  
  
Lexa was the first to break the kiss, humming contentedly. She pressed her forehead against Clarke.  
  
Clarke opened her eyes and smiled. “I’m much better now,” she whispered. She could feel Lexa’s hands on her back, softly caressing her, calming her down. “Thanks,” she said.  
  
Lexa smiled and stepped back.  
  
“Tomorrow everything will be more clear. Once you are safe in Arkadia, things will settle down. Your people can defend themselves there. You will be safe,” Lexa said with confidence. “Once Indra confirms my suspicions, we will make plans. We need allies,” she said.  
  
“Your friend?”  
  
“Yes,” Lexa said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Clarke, but if anything should happen—”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Clarke, listen to me. More than likely, Ontari is the new commander. Things will only get worse from here on out. We were on the brink of civil war before the Flame rejected me. With Ontari in power, Azgeda will overpower the rest of the clans. She will bring war to everyone including your people. I can’t let that happen,” she said.  
  
Clarke looked at Lexa. The young woman had that determined expression on her face. The same expression she wore when Clarke had tried to convince her to avoid fighting with Roan. ‘ _You can’t fix this_ ’. Clarke then remembered.  
  
The Flame.  
  
Clarke grabbed Lexa’s hands, holding them tightly. “Lexa, listen to me. The Flame did not reject you.” Clarke sighed inwardly.  
  
Lexa stared at her.  
  
“Last night…” Clarke shuddered as she recalled the events of the night before. “When Titus took the Flame…”  
  
Lexa watched her intently. She nodded slowly. The stitches in the back of her neck prickled. She masked her discomfort. “The Commander’s spirit,” she said.  
  
Clarke shook her head. She closed her eyes and took a leap of faith.  
  
“It is not a spirit, Lexa. It’s an AI”, she said. “An artificial intelligence.”  
  
Lexa looked at her with a blank expression, trying to grasp the concept and failing. Then her expression closed off. Lexa gave a step back and Clarke let go of her hands. “What is that?” she asked. Clarke could see the walls going up.  
  
“It is like a computer system, like the one we used in the Ark to keep things running, but more complex. Far more complex. An AI was designed to help humanity solve our problems but it went wrong,” she explained. “It caused the nuclear apocalypse that wiped out most of humanity on Earth.”  
  
Lexa just stared at her. The Flame was a Skaikru artifact? She had carried the Flame for almost six years. She had never… The Commander’s Spirit had always guided her through some very difficult times. She had always found comfort and reassurance, advice… and warning, she thought recalling her nightmare when she chose her new policy. A chill ran up her spine. The implications were starting to make her feel dizzy. Her heart beat against her ribcage in an almost painful way. She suppressed the urge to rub her chest to dispel that sensation.  
  
She walked away a few steps. She needed space. She needed time to think. If the Flame was just a piece of Skaikru technology… “You say the Flame destroyed the world?” She started pacing.  
  
Clarke gave a few steps toward her.  
  
“No, no. Not the Flame. The first AI did,” Clarke was aware of the Grounders’s reticence towards technology. But if the AI Murphy had talked about was indeed dangerous, she needed to make Lexa understand the implications, the risks, the threat. “We created it. One of us did. She came to live on one of the stations and built a second AI. One that would solve the problem with the first one. She then came back to Earth with that second AI. She wanted to change things, to help. Somehow she became the first commander. Becca.”  
  
Lexa’s body went rigid. Her expression hardened. “How do you know her name?” Lexa demanded in a low voice. Only the Commander and the Fleimkepa knew the name of all the commanders. It was the final part of the Ascension ceremony. A test that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt the Flame had chosen you. That it spoke to you. That you deserved to be the commander. No one beside the Fleimkepa knew the names of the previous ones. You had to recite the lineage before the Council of Ambassadors and receive the Fleimkepa’s approval. Only then you ascended.  
  
Clarke could see Lexa was struggling to digest the news. She had to explain. “Becca was a scientist aboard the Polaris. One of the thirteenth stations. It was before our Unity Day. Titus has Becca’s escape pod somewhere in the capital. Murphy was locked in that room. That’s how he found out.”  
  
Lexa stood very still. Her upbringing in Polis, among the Natblidas, Titus’s teachings, his words and his guidance through the Ascension ceremony… she recalled going into Titus’s personal study once. She remembered how Titus revered that study, that drawing of the first commander on one of the walls. The legacy of the commanders was kept safe in there. She had seen a large object at the back of the room. Supposedly it was how the first commander came to be among them. But the Flame being Skaikru technology? Was their entire faith based on a piece of Skaikru technology?  
  
“So, that second… AI,” Lexa asked.  
  
“Becca created it to fix the problem and came back to Earth. I don’t know what happened after that,” she said. She softened her voice. Clarke’s heart broke for Lexa. She hated to tell her this but Murphy was right. She deserved to know.  
  
Lexa took a minute to absorb the news. The silence ate at Clarke’s confidence that she had done the right thing.  
  
“When did you find out?” Lexa asked looking at her squarely in the eyes.  
  
Clarke met her gaze. “When you were resting after…,” Clarke cleared her throat. After you almost died. “I asked Murphy. He knows the whole story.”  
  
Lexa nodded slowly, her mind racing.  
  
Clarke felt Lexa emotionally pulling away, closing herself off even further.  
  
Lexa had trouble to fully understand the implications of these A.I. as Clarke called them. But one thing was clear, if her people found out, the throne would be up for grabs for anyone with any ambition for power. Another civil war. An endless one. It would destroy them. She had to recover the Flame. And she had to convince her.  
  
Her mind suddenly focused. Clarke had spoken of two flames.  
  
“You said there are two flames?” She asked. “Two A.I.?” Lexa started pacing.  
  
Clarke nodded. “The first one calls itself ALIE. One of our people found it and has taken it back to Arkadia,” she explained. She gave one step closer to Lexa. “The threat comes from that A.I. Murphy said something about a City of Light. Someplace where there is no pain. Its intention is taking everyone there. I don’t know how.”  
  
Lexa stopped dead in her tracks. “I have heard about that place. It is a myth among my people.  Those who have gone searching for it have never returned.”  
  
“Lexa,” Clarke said, stepping closer and looking intently at her, “it is not a myth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Comments are always welcome.


	13. Chapter 13

The ritual offerings burned alongside the pyre. They were small gifts to pay tribute to the young Natlidas. The crowd had thinned. Some people had returned to their homes in anticipation of what the next few days could bring with the new commander. Succession was always a tricky business. And a bloody one. But this one promised to be even more so. Rumors were already spreading. The Conclave had taken place in the tower and not in the square and a day earlier than it was scheduled. Changes that had caused already speculations as to the reason why. And the Azgeda soldiers in the streets were a sure indication that the new commander had a very different idea of what ruling was.

 

Indra watched Titus. He was still sitting on his chair to the left of the Commander’s chair, which remained empty. Since Ontari had left, only three ambassadors had dared to leave the ceremony. Murmurs had been heard among the crowd and many people had turned again to see the Fleimkepa’s reaction.

 

Titus had remained still with a stoic expression on his face, fulfilling the role in lieu of the new commander. But Indra new him better. She knew he was seething inside. Titus was a stickler for rules.

 

Indra made her way among the crowd looking for a position that would allow Titus to see her without revealing herself to others. She kept wading through the crowd until she reached the spot she had chosen. She took a chance. She removed the hood that covered her head for a moment, pretended to pray for a second and, as she turned to leave, she looked in Titus’s direction with feigned disinterest, covering her head once more. The man did not react. Indra made her way through the crowd until she came to a side street.

 

Indra knew the pyre would burn for at least a couple of hours and that Titus would stay there until only the ashes remained. She could not risk going back to the Tower and wait for him. She had seen enough Azgeda warriors wandering in the streets to realize attempting to gain access to the Tower was pointless. She would not risk being caught in the tunnels either. But maybe Titus study was a good option. He had to come back to prepare for tomorrow’s ritual. And it would give her time to inform the Commander that Ontari was the usurper to the throne.

 

She made her way towards Titus’s study shying away from the few and scattered lanterns along the way on the streets and staying hidden in the darkness. The few times she came across someone on the street, her hood protected her from being recognized. It was dark and people at Polis knew better than to look for trouble in the middle of the Night of the Fallen.

 

A few minutes later she stopped at the intersection and looked in the direction of the study. She walked towards it. She would look for a place to hide, then she would warn the commander and wait for Titus.

 

One of the buildings across the street from Titus’ study had an arched entrance that remained in complete darkness. An alleyway opened up facing his building but still a few yards away to be safe. She had an escape route should she need one. She checked the street once more and, wrapping herself up in her cape, hid in the entrance. From that vantage point she could see if anyone approached the building. 

 

She leaned against the door and waited. A few minutes passed.

 

A figure emerged from one of the side streets and strode straight towards the study. 

 

Indra pressed her body against the wall and watched the figure intently. She took her hand to her knife, wincing as the movement jarred her right shoulder, ready to defend herself if she were discovered. 

 

It was a woman. Was she going to break into the Fleimkepa’s quarters? An assassin maybe? In a few seconds she reached the study but instead of going in she stood still. She cocked her head to one side as if listening intently and turned around looking up and down the street. Something had alerted her. 

 

Indra listened. Male voices, growing louder, apparently coming from the same direction the woman had come. Getting closer. She did not need this. She couldn’t move without revealing her position. She was pinned down. Maybe when she wasn’t looking she could slip into the alleyway unnoticed. Indra knew she was in no condition to stand her ground in a fight. Not yet anyway.

 

The woman did not flinch at hearing the voices. She calmly turned and headed towards Indra. When she was only a few yards away, near the alleyway she stopped for a second as if in doubt.

 

“ Em sen me op ,” she said in a voice high enough to reach Indra’s ears. The voice sounded familiar to Indra. The woman turned to look in Indra’s direction. She recognized her. 

 

“Taimi,” Indra tentatively emerged from the shadows and gave her a slight nod.

 

Taimi had no time for pleasantries. She made a gesture with her hand towards the alley.  “Yo nou ste klir hir, Gona Indra. Kom daun ai, beja. Fleimkepa na hit yu op dei taim em est odon”

 

Indra hesitated for a moment. She knew of Titus’s attempt at Lexa but she had her orders. And Titus had managed to sneak the commander and the Skaikru out of Polis. 

 

She nodded to Taimi which led the way into the darkened alley.

 

The voices in the street were growing louder until a thunder drowned them. A storm was coming.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Monty played with his food moving it around his tray. He was not hungry. He hadn’t been all day really. He was skittish, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment. He had done the right thing. He was certain of it. But his mother’s expression when he created the diversion that had allowed Kane to escape had said it all. He hadn’t talked to her since then. He trusted her. He wanted to trust her. But he had the feeling everyone was watching his every move. 

 

He let out a nervous sigh and looked up. He saw Jasper passing by in a hurry, leaving the cafeteria with a tray almost covered with food. In his haste, he almost bumped into a couple who here coming in.

 

When Monty turned his attention back to the tables, he noticed the group. They were sitting a couple of tables away. Six of them. People from the Farm Station. They had occupied a table for eight. His heart jumped to his throat which constricted painfully. The sudden rush of blood born out of panic rendered him deaf for a second. He looked at them searching for weapons. They were unarmed. They were talking amongst themselves in quiet tones. A couple of them laughed quietly. They had probably finished their shift and were winding down at the cafeteria. They could not possibly be watching him, could they?

 

He did not dare to move now. He swallowed hard. He would act normal but keep an eye on them. He had faced worse at Mount Weather, he could do this. He breathed deeply and let it out softly. He just hoped Kane would find a way to solve the mess with Pike before anyone else got killed. In the meantime, he had to act normal, whatever that meant.

 

“Can I?”

 

Monty jerked his head in surprise. His mother was standing next to his table with a tray in her hands looking at him. He managed to nod and his mother took a seat right across from him, partially hiding the soldiers from his view.

 

He returned to poking at his food in an attempt to look like he was eating.

 

Hannah took her time. She calmly unfolded the napkin on her lap and took a sip from her glass. She looked around casually to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

 

“You’ve put me in a very difficult position,” she started almost whispering. “I did not expect that from you.” 

 

Monty managed to take a bite of whatever he had ordered. The lump in his throat almost chocked him. He took a sip of water refusing to meet his mother’s gaze. 

 

“After all that Pike has done for everyone… For me,” she continued in a low voice. “I don’t understand why you just turned your back and helped  them instead.” 

 

Monty almost strangled his fork. “Because  they helped me stay alive. They protected me,” he said in a low controlled voice. “They became my family.” And after a moment. “I did the right thing. I think dad would’ve been proud of me,” he finished looking at her straight in the eye.

 

Hannah looked away for a second, uneasy. She remained silent for a moment, thinking her next words carefully. 

 

“Yes, he would have,” she admitted. “Your father had his own… ideas but he was a good man, Monty. But he’s gone. Sometimes you have to make difficult choices, not knowing if they’re right until after you’ve taken them.” She shifted uncomfortable on her chair.

 

Monty was at a a loss. What was his mother referring to? A laugh from the guards table startled him. He stayed still staring at his food for a second before stealing a glance in their direction. They seemed too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to anything else. He returned his attention back to his mother who was studying him. Monty looked away.

 

“I haven’t seen you since this morning,” she said in a motherly tone. The accusation was implicit.

 

Monty glanced at her before turning his attention to the food on his tray again. “I’ve been busy”. He had avoided his mother since that morning. Hell, he’d been avoiding everyone he could. He still thought he was going to be arrested at any moment and he didn’t know who he could trust anymore. He looked at his mother trying to convey a truth that wasn’t there.

 

Hannah nodded and took a bite but then looked elsewhere as if trying to avoid meeting his son’s gaze. Monty watched her surreptitiously. The thought had been tossing and turning in his head all day long. The look she had given him when he created the diversion Kane needed. Something had changed between them. He felt in that moment. But still. She was his mother. The only family he had left.

 

The hustle and bustle of the cafeteria filled the silence that stretched between them. Hannah ate slowly and Monty kept redistributing the food around his plate. Now, he was even less hungry. 

 

“Not hungry?”

 

Monty looked up. His mother nodded towards his tray. He smiled weakly and shook his head. “No, not really”.

 

Hannah studied him for a second. She then leaned towards him over the table and lowered her voice even more. “He doesn’t know about you, you know?”

 

Monty stared at her. Comprehension dawned suddenly and his body paralyzed in tension. His eyes flicked briefly to the guards.

 

“I haven’t said anything,” she said.

 

Monty relaxed somewhat. But still. 

 

“And Kane?”

 

Hannah took bite and swallowed before answering him. “Pike hasn’t sent anyone after your friends.”

 

Monty nodded and smiled weakly. He had worried all day about their fate. 

 

“He doesn’t need to. The blockade is still in effect. Pike believes Grounders will kill them. They have nowhere to go,” Hannah added.

 

Monty didn’t want to admit his mother was probably right. The blockade was still there. But he was hoping they could somehow cross it and reach Clarke. Kane was the ambassador. Or had been. That had to account for something. Maybe Clarke could help them to somehow convince the Commander to lift the blockade. They all had heard the alternative early in the morning.

 

“Still, it’s better than being executed for protecting your people,” he said sourly.

 

Hannah leaned back a bit in her chair and let out a sigh.

 

“Listen, I know you feel loyalty to them. I get it. I really do. But Pike has kept us alive all this time. He is a good man, Monty. If it weren’t for him Grounders would have wiped us out a long time ago,” she reasoned. And then, “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”

 

Monty shot a look at his mother. “I can say the exact same thing about Kane. About Clarke. About all of them.”

 

“I realize you care about Kane, son. About all of them. But  we are family. You are my flesh and blood. I cannot lose you too,” she said. She took a moment to come up with the right wording. “Kane does not see the Grounders for what they truly are. And that has put us all in danger.”

 

Monty bristled at his mom’s comment but said nothing. He didn’t agree. They had had three months without any Grounder attacks. And the destruction of Mount Weather was a result of their occupation of the mountain. If they were now under a blockade was because of Pike’s decision to annihilate the Grounder army.

 

“Look, I don’t want to argue with you,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “We’ve both gone through a lot but I will always protect you. You know that, right? You’re my son.”

 

Monty looked at his mother and smiled, nodding. 

 

“But you can’t help them anymore, Monty,” Hannah said with a serious expression. “Please. Not without exposing yourself… and me.” Monty stared at her. She knew him too well. “Please, trust me on this. I lost your father, I don’t want to lose you too.”

 

Monty studied her mother’s earnest expression. He loved her. He had only gotten her back a few days ago. 

 

But they were worlds apart.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jasper eyed wearily at the two guards who were posted at the entrance to medical. They were not from Farm Station. He recognized them. He hesitated at the entrance but, after a cursory glance, they did not make any attempt to stop him.

 

He went in.

 

Raven was lying on one of the beds. She had been hooked up to monitor her vital signs and seemed to be fast asleep. The soft beeping of the machine was a stark contrast with the silence in the room. He looked around. No other patients. For some reason, he felt relieved. The bundle made with Raven’s jacket sat on a chair next to her bed.

 

Jasper looked to his right. Abby was standing in front of a desk, her hands flat on the table’s surface, head hung low, her back towards the door.

 

Jasper cleared his throat. Abby almost jumped out her skin.

 

“Sorry,” he said with a nervous smile. Abby dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand. He set the tray with food on a nearby table. “I brought some snacks. I assumed it’s gonna be a long night.”

 

Abby answered with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. “Jackson was here when we came in,” she offered as an explanation. “I managed to get him out of medical.”

 

“But he could help us, right? Why—?” Jasper let the question hang in the air.  Why not trust Jackson? Why throw him out? 

 

Abby shot him a look. She did not want to talk about it. The scene was still replaying in her head. That soft condescending smile and his eagerness to help her with Raven. She had refused his offer. He smiled and wished her good night leaving her alone with the young woman. Never a smile had left her so unsettled and unnerved. She approached the table where the food was.

 

She studied the contents of the tray while she came up with an answer. “We’re on our own Jasper.” She turned to look at him in the eye. “I can’t trust anyone else right now. Not after what Raven told us.”

 

Jasper nodded. He recalled with a shiver his run-in with the girl when he had come here looking for the wristbands. Maybe Abby was right. “Okay, okay. So, what do we do now?” He did not want to think about the implications of 'being alone' in a camp with hundreds of people.

 

“We need Raven. We’re gonna follow her instructions and destroy that damn chip or whatever it is,” her gaze went to the young woman lying on the bed. “She’s still asleep. I don’t know for how long so I’m gonna need you to keep an eye on her,” she said taking a deep breath. 

 

Jasper nodded while eating one of the snacks he had brought. He looked at Raven. She looked so peaceful on the bed. Just asleep. He remembered her smile, her vivaciousness, her determination, her temper, her intelligence, her strength.

 

He approached the bed and studied her. “What if the wristbands don’t work?” he asked in a soft voice.

 

Abby looked at the tray. Her worry overruled her hunger. She knew she had to eat something. They could not work on an empty stomach. She knew that better than anyone else. But right now her stomach had decided to tie itself into one hell of a Gordian knot. She’d put food on her desk and made a mental note to eat something, even if it was a small bite, as often as her stomach allowed her.

 

What if the wristbands don’t work? She shook her head.

 

“We’ll face that when, and if, that happens.”

 

Jasper turned to look at her. “Maybe you could talk to Pike. Tell him what’s going on. I mean, he’ll listen to you”.

 

Abby turned to look at him. Pike. She had weighed that option and dismissed it. Aside from her personal story with him, the man had a profound dislike for Jaha and his “antics”. She had the feeling he had tolerated Thelonious out of mercy more than anything else. But Pike had too much invested in his own personal agenda.

 

“No,” she finally said, “Pike doesn’t see anything past Grounders. It would take us time we may not have, Jasper.” 

 

Abby joined Jasper at the other side of the bed and softly caressed Raven’s cheek.  So young , she thought.  They were all so young . Her heart constricted in her chest. She missed Clarke. She was worried sick about her.

 

She looked up and locked eyes with Jasper. “The wristband will work. There is no alternative.”

 

Jasper nodded, aware once more of the resemblance between mother and daughter. When Clarke set her mind to do something, she would get the same expression on her face.

 

“Get the wristbands,” she said gesturing with her head to the bundle on the chair on Jasper’s side of the bed. “We’ve got work to do,” Abby said. She softly caressed Raven’s head in a motherly gesture. She turned around and headed for her desk. Jasper followed her.

 

She opened the bundle and took out the wristbands, leaving them on the desk. She then went to her office.

 

Jasper looked nervously around the room, then at Raven and finally his gaze rested on the wristbands lying on the desk. He noticed the transparent board for diagnosis nearby. He pushed it closer to the desk, grabbed a marker and started to replicate the schematics he had seen Raven drawn.

 

Abby returned a moment later carrying a box of tools and stopped to studied his drawing.

 

“You have good memory,” she said leaving the box on her desk.

 

Jasper smiled timidly, glancing at her. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said looking back at the board.

 

Abby patted him on the shoulder with affection. “Good,” she said. “Now, let’s get to it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was not working. She had found a spot where she could lean her back on the rock wall while trying to meditate. She had been at it for a while now but her mind kept conjuring up thoughts and images. She thought that maybe she was exhausted. Her chest had been bothering her all day. The back of her neck felt a bit tender despite Clarke having looked after her stitches a bit earlier. But she had had far worse injuries. Her first years trying to convince the clans to come together under her coalition had not been peaceful in the least. Putting an end to the Clan Wars, the battles, the skirmishes, the assassination attempts. Costia’s death.

 

Her gaze drifted to Clarke who was talking to Marcus in hushed voices a few yards from her. They were the only ones awake now. The rest were already asleep. The plan was to reach Arkadia right before the break of dawn… before the change of guards.

 

She corrected her position on the hard floor, trying to get more comfortable on the cold surface, closed her eyes again and started to slow down her breathing. Trying to get to that special place. 

 

But her mind gave her no rest.

 

‘It is not a spirit, Lexa. It’s an AI ’

 

She huffed softly. It wasn’t working. She shifted again, relaxed her shoulders, her arms and tried to empty her mind. Once more. She breathed in deeply.

 

‘Becca was a scientist aboard the Polaris.’

 

Clarke’s words had been haunting her since the moment she heard them. Lexa knew she had to come up with a plan in the event her people found out about Becca and the Flame. Her hopes were on Luna. But she wasn’t sure if she was going to agree to her idea.

 

She let out a frustrated sigh. She hadn’t had so much difficulty in meditating since her days as a young Natblida, when she had started practicing.

 

If she could just get to that place where the Flame was.

 

Her eyes snapped open. The Flame.

 

The Flame had rejected her. She no longer carried it. Could that be the reason why she was having such a hard time meditating? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to empty her mind, to expel the thought that had started to gnaw at her, searching again for that place where she found refuge and peace.

 

Nothing.

 

Her pulse started to race a bit faster. That sense of calmness she achieved when meditating was gone from her mind. She could not find a trace of it. Nothing. Nothing was familiar anymore.

 

A pang shot through her heart which started to beat a bit erratically. 

 

Lexa squared her jaw and forced her body to obey her. She kept her breathing slow, trying to relax her muscles, focusing her energy and attention inward. Trying to let go.

 

To no avail.

 

She fought against the emerging thought. She could not allow such a thing to invade her mind. Not now. Not ever. 

 

But still.

 

“You okay?”

 

Lexa opened her eyes, startled. Clarke stood next to her looking at her with a worried expression. She hadn’t heard her. She schooled her features. 

 

“Yes,” she lied. “Just tired, I guess.”

 

Clarke smiled fondly. “Come,” she said reaching out her hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”

 

Lexa took her hand and let Clarke guide her to their bedrolls. Argus was already sleeping nearby. He had taken a position that would cut off any attack on them coming from the cave’s entrance.

 

Clarke lied down and Lexa followed. She turned on her side facing Lexa.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” Lexa said cracking a smile. “Good night, ambassador,” she offered.

 

Clarke’s face lit up at hearing the words. “Reshop, Heda.”

 

Clarked closed her eyes and in a few minutes she was fast asleep. 

 

Lexa however could not stop thinking.

 

If the Flame was indeed a Skaikru artifact, then, what else had the AI taken away from her?

 

 

* * *

 

 

His men were filing out of the office. With the meeting adjourned, he could finally get something to eat. It had been a long day. He cracked his neck trying to relieve the tension on his shoulders. The atmosphere during the meeting had been somewhat somber. Kane’s escape had shed some doubt among the people in the camp on his plans for expanding Arkadia. But as he had stressed over the meeting with his men, with the blockade in effect, those Grounders would take care of Kane and his group. Maybe he would have to address Kane’s issue tomorrow in a speech.

 

He rose up from his seat and walked over to the map on the board. They were surrounded by Grounder clans. But they would have to accept their presence whether they liked it or not. 

 

And if one thing was clear now is that his policy was the only policy. Grounders only understood violence. You could not negotiate with them. You could not reason with them. You could not trust them. But for some obscure unfathomable reason, Kane had thought they could trust, again, the same commander who had betrayed them. And then, Grounders destroyed Mount Weather, killing most of his people. 

 

Mount Weather. The one place they could have sought refuge during the winter gone. The one place that would have kept them healthy and that had offered their best chance at surviving on this land obliterated. It had been a huge loss. He had to concede it had been a brilliant tactical maneuver on the part of the Grounders. Debilitate your enemy. Don’t allow them to have access to food or shelter. Now they could just sit back and wait for winter to kill them slowly. 

 

Their crops would barely survive the winter. They would not be enough to feed all of them. And they needed new hunting grounds. With his plans to take the area around that small village, TonDC, they could expand their territory significantly. It was only a first step. And it was something he was looking forward to. Their chances would increase considerably. 

 

As for the Grounders, they had gotten a taste of what it was to wage war against a technologically superior force. He hoped the skirmish at the Grounder’s camp was taken as a serious enough warning. They now would think twice before getting close to Arkadia. He would never make the same mistake.

 

The door of his office clicked shut. He let out a relieved sigh. A moment later, he heard the door open. He turned to look.

 

Hannah was poking her head in. Pike made a gesture for her to come in. She was a good woman. Loyal to a fault. He needed more people like her.

 

“Hannah, come in,” he said making again a gesture with his hand. The woman timidly stepped in as he sat behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”

 

He then saw the look on her face and he grew serious. He had only seen that expression one other time. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The monitor beeped softly. Its cadence had been steady all night. Raven slept soundly. Her face relaxed and peaceful.

 

Jasper had been checking up on her regularly for the last few hours while Abby worked on modifying the wristband. It was taking longer than they had expected. She may have designed them but she was no engineer.

 

The tray of food was half empty. He had been taking food to Abby every once in a while trying to coax her into eating something. After trying to remember the best way they could the schematics Raven had shown them, Jasper didn’t really have much to do but keep en eye on a sleeping Raven. Sleep. He yawned for what it seemed the hundredth time in the last hour. 

 

“Fuck!” 

 

Jasper hurried over to Abby’s desk. 

 

A small cloud of smoke billowed from the wristband. The acrid smell of burnt metal and wire told Jasper they were one wristband down.

 

Abby threw the welder angrily against the desk and huffed in frustration. She rubbed her eyes, exhausted, and looked at the remaining wristband sitting nearby.

 

“We still have more,” Jasper nodding at the wristband.

 

Abby turned her head. “What do you mean more?” she asked baffled.

 

“Yeah, I only took two. I don’t know why,” he started rambling. Abby looked at him with a confused expression. “The wristbands. You have more in your desk.”

 

Abby’s eyes darted towards her office. “Fetch them,” she told him. “You remember the code?” she asked but Jasper was already on his way.

 

“Yes,” he said as he rushed into her office.

 

The young man rounded Abby’s desk and bent down to open the drawer. He entered the code and the drawer let out a soft click as the locking mechanism disengaged. He pulled the drawer and froze. He pulled the drawer as far as it could go and then went on his knees trying to get a better look. He felt the drawer with his hand. 

 

Abby looked at the burnt mechanism on the wristband, turning the now useless object in her hand, and let out an exasperated sigh. Damn it! She had designed these things! She could do it! They were running out of time. And out of wristbands.

 

She heard Jasper footsteps.

 

“Have you found them?” she called out without turning. When no answer came, she turned to look at him.

 

Jasper had a haunted look on his face. “They’re gone,” he said with a hollow voice. 

 

“What?”

 

“There are no wristbands left. There were at least four more. I only took two because I was in a hurry. I—” 

 

“It’s okay, Jasper,” she lied. “Really, it’s okay.” She turned her attention back to the only wristband they had.

 

“But how?” Jasper asked. “I mean… You’re the only one with access, right?”

 

Abby stared at the wristband. “No,” she said as the pieces starting coming together. “Jackson has access too.”

 

Jasper stared at her, comprehension dawning on his face. 

 

Abby turned, picked the only remaining wristband they had, and started to work on it.

 

Jasper looked around medical as a terrifying thought took shape in his mind.

 

They were truly alone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments. Feedback is something that helps me tremendously to improve my writing. 
> 
> Long chapter. I know. But I'm setting up the pieces on the chessboard. It will pay off.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigedasleng:
> 
> “Em sen me op” — “He sends me”
> 
> “Yo nou ste klir hir, Gona Indra. Kom daun ai, beja. Fleimkepa na hit yu op dei taim em est odon” — “You are not safe here, General Indra. Come with me, please. The Fleimkepa will meet with you there when he is done.”


	14. Chapter 14

She hadn’t been able to sleep at all. She may have nodded off a couple of times but her mind had kept her awake going around in circles. Restless. Trying to explore every possible consequence to every decision she could make.   
  
She was frustrated. She had stopped doing that a long time ago, when she understood plans went as far as they went, that many times the course of a battle dictated the path to take, that plans were not written in stone and only those who could read and anticipate the enemy’s strategy would rise in victory. She was back at the beginning. She was back at second guessing herself, at over-analyzing the situation to exhaustion. But then again, she had never faced a worse situation. The upcoming civil war could destroy them all. And despite her attempts at coming with a viable solution to prevent it, she was more now convinced than ever that the only way to prevent war was to begin one herself. Only this time, she lacked the resources as a Commander. She had to begin anew.  
  
Clarke stirred in her sleep burrowing into her body and interrupting Lexa’s train of thought. She had gravitated towards her in her sometimes agitated sleep as if seeking refuge from whatever haunted her in her dreams.   
  
Lexa kissed the top of Clarke’s head and let out a soft sigh. ‘Maybe someday, when we owe nothing more to our people’. She wanted that. She desperately wanted that.   
  
Ontari might be the new Commander but she was making a terrible mistake if she thought that by having the largest army she could hold onto power. One thing Lexa had learned the hard way early on was that a large army did not guarantee success.  
  
Lexa knew very well the ambassadors, knew most of the Grounder generals, and had visited the clans. She knew her people.  
  
She just had to convince them.  
  
As for the Flame…  
  
A dark figure approached carefully.  
  
Lexa snapped her head in their direction, tensing her body. The figure stopped a few yards away. Octavia. She was looking at them. The skygirl approached slowly on her way to the cave’s exit. They locked eyes.   
  
The _skaigada_ ’s expression was one of ill-disguised pain. A pain Lexa knew all too well. A pain that could destroy you and leave behind a barren soul.  
  
Octavia closed off her expression, looked away a second later and made her way to the exit. Her entire frame tense. Her strides purposeful. She did not look back.  
  
Lexa kept her gaze on her. She knew the hell Octavia was in. And she couldn’t help herself feeling sympathy towards her.  
  
‘ _Feelings make you weak_ ,’ an distant voice echoed in her head. Lexa cringed.  
  
Clarke jerked awake, sitting up gasping, startling her. She sat with her, rubbing her back soothingly as Clarke shook away the last vestiges of her nightmare.  
  
“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a dream,” she told her.  
  
Clarke breathed heavily, chest heaving. She let out an audible sigh. She turned her head and smiled faintly at Lexa. “Thanks,” she rasped.  
  
Lexa returned her smile. “You are welcome,” she said. She stood up and reached out with her hand.   
  
Clarke looked around. Argus was not there. His bedroll was gone as well.   
  
“Is it time?” Clarke groaned.  
  
Lexa nodded.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Clarke followed Octavia’s steps and approached a big tree that stood near the edge of the forest. Lexa walked next to her. The tree’s low branches offered a good hiding spot.  
  
“The entrance is only about two hundred yards away,” Octavia said pointing to a small cluster of debris about a hundred yards from the camp’s most outer wall.  
  
Clarke recognize the area. Arkadia did not have a regular form. It zigzagged trying to take advantage of the terrain and having to work with what was left of the space station. There were still parts they hadn’t been able to make habitable. And that’s where the delinquents’ tunnel came into play. The tunnel, a forgotten service corridor from the time when the station was orbiting Earth, crossed uninhabitable areas, offering the perfect way into the camp.  
  
Clarke saw Lexa analyzing the area. They had to cross a small expanse of terrain to their left. Some low vegetation and natural digs and trenches offered them some protection from prying eyes.  
  
The steep walls on that side were built taking advantage of the terrain so they were even higher than the rest of the walls surrounding the camp.  
  
“What about the guards at the walls?” Lexa asked in full commander persona.  
  
“The guards do not often patrol this area,” Harper announced. “Last time Brian checked Pike hadn’t changed the guards rotation.”  
  
“He probably thinks we are not coming back,” Octavia mused derisively.   
  
Clarke shot a look at her and then looked over at Lexa. She took a look at her group. Only Harper, Octavia and herself had a weapon. Lexa and Argus had refused the idea of carrying them, preferring the use of their swords. And Murphy… Well, Murphy would have to wait until they were inside.   
  
She looked once more at Lexa who gave her a reassuring nod. They’d better get this right.  
  
The lights that illuminated Arkadia’s immediate surroundings went off. The predawn light was clearly insufficient but Pike had assumed Grounders would not dare attack Arkadia after his demonstration of force. That gave them an advantage to reach the tunnel undetected.  
  
“It’s time,” Octavia said in a hard voice.  
  
Clarke looked at her group. “Let’s go.”  
  
  
  
  
A few minutes later, the group arrived at the small cluster of debris. Arkadia’s junkyard. Clarke recognized the trapdoor immediately. She hurried over to it. Octavia right behind her.  
  
They both pulled the door open. Octavia sneaked inside and a few seconds later emerged with two flashlights in her hand. She gave one to Clarke and kept the other.  
  
They walked into the tunnel. Octavia led the way, Clarke and Lexa right behind her.    
  
Murphy hesitated at the entrance, looking between the freedom the forest offered and the confinement Arkadia meant to him. Argus stepped in his line of vision, blocking the way and stared down at him. The message was clear. He had a babysitter. Murphy answered with a wry smile, raised his hands in mocked surrender and stepped inside the tunnel.  
  
Harper followed them, turning on the flashlight once inside.  
  
She closed the door behind them.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The rhythmic beeping was lulling him into sleep. Jasper had helped the doctor replicating the schematics but soon after that the only thing he had to do was watch over a sleeping Raven.  
  
He turned his head to one side trying to get rid of the kink in his neck. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair and let out a long yawn.   
  
Jasper looked at Raven for the umpteenth time. The young woman was still out cold. The sedative had worked better than Abby had thought and his friend hadn’t moved at all during the night. Still, Abby had set some restrains nearby just in case she woke up. She did not want to have to resort to that.  
  
He yawned again. He was falling asleep. He needed to drink something, something that would wake him up.  
  
He looked up. Abby was standing next to the board with the marker in her hand. She had gone over the broken wristband, taking it apart, trying to analyze what had gone wrong. Then back at the board, trying to figure out if they had made a mistake in recreating Raven’s schematics.  
  
“Any luck?” Jasper asked her.  
  
Abby turned to look at him and let out a frustrated sigh.  
  
“I think this time I’ve made the right modifications,” she said returning her attention to the board.  
  
Jasper got up and walked over to the board. He stood studying the schematics.  
  
Abby rubbed her eyes in a tired gesture.  
  
“Maybe we need a break,” Jasper suggested, “have something to drink. You’ve been at it all night.”   
  
“I don’t know, Jasper,” she said stealing a glance at Raven. “I’m not sure how much longer the sedative is going to last. We may not have that time. And we only have one wristband.”  
  
“Maybe after taking a couple minutes off, we’ll see things more clearly,” he reasoned.   
  
Abby glanced at the tray Jasper had brought a few hours back. There was no food left. She had been up for almost the last twenty-four hours. She knew perfectly well what sleep deprivation did to the brain.  
  
“Okay,” Abby nodded. “But be quick, Jasper. And don’t—”  
  
“Trust anyone. Yeah, I know,” said Jasper with a serious expression.  
  
He turned around and with a last glance at Raven he exited medical.   
  
The guards just gave him a cursory glance as he walked down the corridor.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The guard stifled a yawn. The expanse of land in front of the main gate was devoid of activity. No one and nothing in sight.  
  
He grabbed a set of binoculars and scanned the edge of the forest taking his time. Even with the lights, he could barely make the line of the forest with detail. His companion walked up to stand beside him.  
  
“Anything?” she asked.  
  
The man shook his head and, this time, opened his mouth, incapable of repressing it any longer. “Nah,” he said yawning. “Man, I can’t wait for our shift to be over.”  
  
“I hear you,” the woman answered with a chuckle.  
  
The man pocketed his binoculars and started to walk. One more hour to go. One more hour and he could go to bed.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Jasper entered the cafeteria tentatively. He hadn’t seen any guards in the corridors and not that many people were up at this time of night… morning.  
  
The cafeteria was almost deserted. A group of four people were busy setting up the tables for the breakfast service and putting up the garbage cans for recycling. The floor glistened. They had already mopped it.  
  
The smells coming from the kitchen made his mouth water. He covered his stomach with his hand and glanced at the buffet bar that was being set. The chafers had no food yet. The metal food pans were empty and the lights to keep the food warm were still off. A young woman was cleaning the last sneeze guards. She shot a glance at him and continued her work. He spotted the beverages at the end of the buffet bar. He grabbed a tray, set two cups on it and strode over to the dispensers.  
  
He put a cup under one of the dispensers and pressed the lever. Nothing came out. He tried again. Nothing.  
  
He looked around and when he saw a young woman coming his way, he took the chance.  
  
“Are these working?” he asked.  
  
The young woman stopped for a second before answering him. “No. They’re still empty,” she said. “Give me a minute. I’ll be back,” she added with a smile heading back to the kitchen.  
  
“Sure, thanks,” Jasper answered.  
  
He kept glancing around him from time to time. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him. The group setting the tables were almost done and he could hear people bustling in the kitchen. A couple of early risers showed up, talking in low voices. They glanced in his direction as they took in the empty buffet bar. A short laugh reached his ears.  
  
It was just another day. And he couldn’t wait to leave.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The beams of the flashlights cut through the darkness as they advanced further into the tunnel casting strange moving shadows. The floor was covered with a light layer of dust. There was a fallen panel here and there so they had to squeeze to get through. They walked in silence. Their footsteps seemed to echo loudly in the dark.  
  
They turned on a corner and at the end of that corridor they could see dim light coming from another corridor to the right. Octavia turned off her flashlight and made a gesture to Harper and Clarke to do the same.  
  
They continued for a few minutes until they reached a corridor that Clarke quickly recognized. A panel to her left was the door to the camp.  
  
Octavia posted herself at the door and Clarke at the other side. Lexa stood beside Clarke.  
  
Harper, Murphy and Argus leaned against the walls.  
  
“Get ready,” Clarke whispered.  
  
They took the safety off their weapons. Lexa and Argus unsheathed their swords.  
  
Clarke nodded at Harper. She took the radio and pushed the button three times. Two clicks, pause, one click.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Marcus broke the forest line first, followed closely by Bellamy then the rest of the group. They advanced quickly towards the front gate. The clock was ticking now.  
  
When they were about thirty yards from the gate, they saw movement in the walls. Someone yelled at them to stop right there. They obeyed.  
  
Bellamy walked a few feet to one side, his weapon aimed at Kane’s head.  
  
“I bring in Kane,” he yelled. “Tell Chancellor Pike.”  
  
The four guards posted at the front gate stared at them for a second. Three guards trained their weapons on them while he fourth disappeared.  
  
Marcus tried his handcuffs one last time.  
  
“Don’t yank them too much,” Sinclair said in a low voice. “Or they’ll come loose.”   
  
Kane stopped trying test the handcuffs. He’d have to trust Sinclair.  
  
“I just hope they buy this,” Brian said looking at the group. They were all carrying their weapons. They were turning Kane in. They had taken the time to get their clothes and faces dirty so their story would hold, so it was plausible.   
  
“He will,” Marcus said with finality. He looked over at Bellamy who was still aiming his gun at him. The young man looked away turning his attention to the guards. And a sudden thought occurred to Kane. If Bellamy wanted he could turn the tables on them once they crossed the gates. The whole operation would fail. He shook his head to dispel the images and looked again at the young man. No, he wouldn’t. He would never risk her sister’s life. Not after what had happened. He wanted to believe Bellamy was trying to do the right thing. He reminded himself that trust was earned in time.  
  
A mere two minutes later, the front gate started to open. Bellamy pushed Marcus forward, keeping his gun trained on him. The rest of the group trailed behind them.  
  
Kane turned his head to look at Sinclair and gave him a barely perceptible nod.  
  
As the group slowly advanced, Sinclair took his hand to the radio at his waist, pressing the button three times. One click, pause, two clicks.  
  
As soon as they entered, they were surrounded by a group of seven guards with their weapons trained on them.  
  
Chancellor Pike walked out of the station and was making his way to them with a guarded expression on his face.  
  
The trap was set.  
  



	15. Chapter 15

The clicks echoed softly in the corridor prompting Octavia into action.  
  
The young woman carefully pulled the trapdoor open and peeked outside. A moment later she slid into the room.  
  
Clarke and Lexa exchanged a look. Their success relied heavily on not being detected while inside Arkadia. If they ran into guards, not only their presence would alert Pike and jeopardize the plan but would also mean they would have to shoot their own people. If they failed they could still try to make a run back to the tunnel and take it from there. But Kane and his group wouldn’t be so lucky. Infiltrating at dawn could be the advantage they needed.  
  
Soft footsteps grew louder and a moment later the door opened.  
  
“Clear,” Octavia said in almost a whisper, opening the door completely.  
  
Clarke entered the room. Octavia went to stand next to the plastic curtains, her back pressed to the wall, standing watch should anyone approach their position. Lexa came out next, sword in hand. The rest followed.  
  
Murphy entered before last, followed by Argus.  
  
“Okay, let’s go. Don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to,” Clarke ordered looking at Octavia and Harper.  
  
Both women nodded in assent but Clarke was convinced Octavia would not hesitate to use her gun. The few times the young woman had looked at her brother at the hurried breakfast had been with utter contempt. If Octavia got her hands on Pike…  
  
They pushed the plastic curtains aside and stepped into the empty corridor. They had to be fast,… and silent.  
  
The group advanced quickly, stopping at the intersections before turning a corner. The prison was not too far away from the main entrance so, hopefully, it wouldn’t take them too long.  
  
They had walked for a full minute when Octavia raised her fist and everyone stopped, staying close to the walls. They heard distant voices growing closer.  
  
Octavia pressed her body to the left side of the corridor and Harper to the right. They both walked rapidly to the intersection, weapons firmly held in their hands, should they need to open fire.  
  
The corridor they were in traced a slight curve to the right leading to the prison but a few yards ahead another corridor opened up on the left.  
  
Clarke grabbed her gun with more strength. She could feel Lexa close right behind her. The Grounder only had her swords and knife, but Clarke knew very well how deadly Lexa could be with those weapons.    
  
Harper and Octavia reached the intersection carefully, trying to determine where the voices were coming from. Harper stayed slightly behind and was aiming her gun at the corridor in front of her.  
  
A few seconds later, Octavia made a gesture with her hand. The voices came from their left. Harper backed up a bit moving closer to Octavia.  
  
Clarke came to stand behind both women with bated breath. She did not want to fire on her own people. She hated the idea but would not hesitate if she was forced to do so. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Argus coming to stand before Murphy, actually protecting him with his body should anything go wrong. Clarke was convinced it was Lexa’s orders. She flicked a glance at her but the Grounder’s attention was focused intently on Octavia, waiting for the next signal.  
  
The voices echoed in the corridor seemingly growing louder.  
  
Clarke closed her eyes, silently praying she would not have to shoot her own people. She felt a hand on her arm. She snapped her eyes open, startled, and looked down. Lexa’s hand. She shot a look at her. The Grounder gave her an reassuring nod. Clarke answered with a tense but grateful smile.  
  
A few seconds later, the voices grew weaker, moving away. Toward the mess hall? Octavia gestured them to continue.  
  
Harper took the lead. The rest of the group walking a few steps behind. The prison was at the end of that corridor.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The first thing she was aware of was the clarity of thought. As if her mind had expanded exponentially, free of its own perceived limitations. Pain was gone, both physical and psychological, and it had been replaced with a newfound serenity that left no room for self-doubt or fear.  
  
Everything was so clear now.  
  
It was so evident that it surprised her why she had resisted for so long, why she had fought so hard against it.  
  
She now completely understood its purpose. The beauty of its plan. Its intricacy and its perfection.  
  
Her physical body was still fighting what was left of the sedative in the bloodstream and her brain. But time was fast approaching. Her limbs were regaining their strength, coordination would soon follow.  
  
She finally understood why she had been chosen, why she was perfect for the task. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the mental quietness, the imperturbability. Her mind seemed to breath with her, as if stretching to its true full potential for the first time, reaching further than she had ever imagined. It was liberating.  
  
She let out a soft sigh. The plan was coming along with only some minor delays, but she would fulfill her core command sooner than expected.  
  
She looked to her left. The woman, the doctor called Abby, was sitting at a desk. Her attention focused on something she was working on. She strained her head a little more to the left and saw it.  
  
A board. A board with something drawn on it. Something that resembled the schematics she had glimpsed when the young woman had passed out. When she had finally obtained complete control.  
  
She flexed her legs a bit, testing their response. No pain. The left leg felt trapped by the brace that was supposed to help her walk. However, that would soon change. Very soon.  
  
But she would need those two humans to finally convince the doctor. Her joining voluntarily would mean a significant advantage to her plans.  
  
And now she had the means to convince her.  
  
  
********  
  
  
A sizzling noise was heard in the room. The smell of burned circuitry filled the man’s nostrils, not that he would care or even notice. He kept going at a steady automatic pace.  
  
Sitting on the floor, Jaha observed him with a impassive look and then his gaze shifted to take in the small army he had managed to raise in such a short period of time. The plan was coming along. He closed his eyes, exhaled audibly and looked within himself.  
  
He opened his eyes again. He was home.  
  
The City of Light.  
  
He tilted his head towards the sky and soaked in the warmth of the sun, letting the soft breeze ruffle his clothes. He inhaled deeply. He was satisfied. He would even dare say happy but for some reason he couldn’t quite recall what that felt like. He dismissed that thought. It was not important. What was really important was what he saw right in front of him.  
  
Scattered small groups of people milling around on the streets, enjoying a stroll, talking carefree, enjoying life for the first time without having to deal with pain, fear, hunger or death.  
  
Here they could leave behind all the pain, the harshness, and fear. It was going to be a safe refuge for his people, a place where they could finally leave behind all the hardships they had endured and truly enjoy themselves.  
  
The city offered them shelter. A safe place for them to live. There was more than enough for everyone. All their needs would be met more than adequately. They would not need to worry about anything. They would not have to concern themselves with food, water, illness. Everything would be taken care of. They would be free to explore within the confines of the City.  
  
And he was responsible for that, for giving his people hope and a new beginning. A life free of struggle. Free of pain.  
  
“She is awake,” a voice he immediately recognized said to him.  
  
He turned around. ALIE walked up to him.  
  
“The effects are almost gone. I need for you and Jackson to be there.” Jaha nodded. “It is time for the doctor to join us,” ALIE finished.  
  
“She will,” Jaha concurred.  
  
Jaha opened his eyes and looked over at Jackson. Both men got up and headed towards the door.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Kane kept his hands closed to his body, hoping they wouldn’t notice the handcuffs, while watching Pike walking up to them.  
  
The man offered them a grim smile as he strode towards them. He took in the disheveled group and his gaze came to rest on Bellamy.  
  
Marcus stood tall and looked around them. Eight soldiers had them surrounded, with their weapons ready. He recognized 3 of them as guards from when Abby was chancellor. He might be able to sway them over to their cause if need be. Sinclair, Brian and Miller stood behind him. After all, they were turning him in.  
  
“Care to explain this?” Pike asked addressing Bellamy indicating Kane with his head.  
  
“We are turning him in,” Bellamy started to explain.  
  
Pike came to stand near Bellamy while studying Kane’s appearance. “Is that so?” He turned to Bellamy. “What happened to you?”  
  
“I was taken prisoner,” he started. Marcus gritted his teeth. Was he going to rat his own sister? “Octavia set me up into a trap. She and Indra held me in a cave.”  
  
“They sure did a number on you,” Pike commented. “How did you manage this?” he said pointing to Kane and the group.  
  
Bellamy looked over at his people. “They tried to get past the blockade,” he began. “Grounders attacked as soon as they crossed the line. They gave no warning.”  
  
“Of course they didn’t,” Pike started to walk around the group. Miller shifted uncomfortably under the man’s gaze.  
  
“Harper is dead,” Bellamy said in a somber voice. “We couldn’t retrieve her body. There were too many of them. We barely made it out alive.”  
  
Pike came to stand in front of Kane, sizing him up. Marcus kept a neutral expression.  
  
“That's another death on your shoulders, Marcus,” Pike stated. “You trust too easily. You’ve endangered our people far too many times.”  
  
“I did what I thought was right”, Kane defended himself.  
  
“You were taken for a fool,” Pike growled. “While you talked peace with them, they were blowing up the mountain and my people in it. Grounders only understand violence. If my people had survived that long was because we do not trust them.”  
  
Pike turned his attentions to Bellamy. “Keep going,” he ordered him.  
  
Bellamy glanced at Marcus and then focused his attention on Pike.  
  
“I managed to convince them that going to the Grounders was a mistake. They will not listen. They will not negotiate,” Bellamy said. He pointed at Sinclair, Miller and Brian. “I told them you would consider taking them back if they helped me bring Kane to justice.”  
  
Pike looked from Bellamy to Sinclair. He knew that man had always been loyal to Kane. He walked over to him and studied him.  
  
Sinclair managed to not flinch under the scrutiny, holding his head high and meeting his eyes.  
  
“What happened to the Grounder and your sister?” Pike asked Bellamy out of the blue keeping his gaze fixed on Sinclair.  
  
“I— I don’t know. I managed to escape,” he said. “My guess is they went to Polis.”  
  
Pike turned to look at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “Your sister was behaving more like a Grounder than one of us,” he said. “She betrayed you. Sorry.”  
  
Bellamy lowered his head for a moment. Pike took it as a sign of grief.  
  
“Yeah, well, me too,” Bellamy said in a low voice.  
  
“See?” he said turning back to Kane. “That’s that worries me the most. We can handle Grounders. We proved that attacking their camp. But if there is one thing we can’t allow is betrayal by our own people. Right, Bellamy?” he asked turning to the young man.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
He was tired. Night shifts were the worst. They screwed up his sleep cycle. By the time he would get his sleeping pattern back to normal it would be time for another night shift. He had another three nights in the following ten days.  
  
He fought the yawn that threatened to bubble up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Fucking Grounders!’, he thought as he looked at them morosely. They all got shelter, they slept all they wanted and blankets to sleep in, food was brought to them. And he had to go and tell the fucking doctor if any of them got sick? Like they gave them a break when they were stranded up north in what was left of Farm station. And all of that for what? So one day they could attack them? Grounders were the problem. The sooner they got rid of them, the better.  
  
He leaned on the wall in front of the cells and stared at them.  His companion huffed irritated near the cells. He could go float himself. He hated working with Arkadians. They knew nothing about Grounders. If night shifts were bad, a night shift with an Arkadian was even worse.  
  
He detected movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to the right. Two women were coming towards them.  
  
Both men turned their attention to them.  
  
The first woman, a brunette, was dressed in black Grounder attire. She was walking towards them with her hands raised at the back of her head, in surrender. Her scowl spoke volumes. The woman was pissed. The guard recognized her. That was Bellamy’s sister. The lover of that Grounder Pike had executed yesterday. His interest was piqued.  
  
He saw the other woman. A guard. A cute blond. He had seen her around.  
  
“Hey, what she doing here?” he asked pointing.  
  
Octavia saw the guard taking his hand to his rifle and releasing the safety. His companion did the same. Each took a position on each side of the corridor, almost flanking them. They needed to get closer for their plan to work.  
  
“We caught her near the west wall,” Harper said behind Octavia. “Pike ordered me to put her in the cell with the rest. Move,” she barked at her, giving her a shove.  
  
Octavia stumbled a few steps and glared at Harper. She had barely managed to keep her hands hidden behind her head.  
  
“So, the Grounder’s bitch had a change of heart now, huh?” he mocked Octavia.  
  
Octavia snapped her head to shoot him a scathing look. Her heart started pumping even harder. She gritted her teeth. Her blood was asking for blood. She could feel the blade in the inside of her sleeve. It would be so easy. She was about to jump him when Harper gave her another slight shove. A warning.  
  
“Hey, cut it out, will you?” Harper retorted in a harsh tone. “No need for that.” And to Octavia. “Keep going.”  
  
Only a couple of more yards. They could almost see the interior of the cells now.  
  
The guard scoffed. “Come on. She switched sides and now she wants back in,” he said offhandedly. He relaxed a bit his hold on his rifle.  
  
His companion wasn’t so relaxed. “Where’s your partner?” he asked Harper.  
  
The blond hesitated for a second but then smiled. “Ferrick? Bathroom emergency,” she said as if it were an running joke. Octavia kept walking. Her eyes trained on the asshole of a guard. She could feel the barrel of Harper’s gun grazing her back. The firearm was too close for comfort. But she could do it from here. She could kill him from where she was and he wouldn’t stand a chance.  
  
A bit closer and they would go into action.  
  
“I just want to drop her here so I can go to bed,” Harper said behind her.  
  
Almost there. They could see the cells from their position. Some Grounders had approached to the bars. Octavia recognized Nyko peering through them. A barely perceptible shake of her head was enough warning for the prisoners. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the moron was looking at them with a new interest.  
  
The guard suddenly realized. “And your rifle?” he asked Harper with a suspicious glance. He tightened his hold on his rifle, ready to use it.  
  
Octavia tensed her muscles. The damn bastard was not that fool after all. She shifted her body slightly to the left, angling it towards the guard and leaving Harper a sliver of space to her right. Her fingers reached for the knife in her sleeve.  
  
“Already left it at the armory,” Harper lied through her teeth.  
  
The guard did not buy it. He took a guarded stance. “Who is the officer in charge this morning?”  
  
Octavia felt the hesitation on Harper. She eyed the guard, paying close attention to his body language. The guard didn’t miss Harper’s vacillation.  
  
Octavia sprang into action. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the knife from inside her sleeve and threw it at him, hitting him squarely on the chest. The man opened his mouth but no sound came out. He crumpled on the floor with a look of surprise on his face, the knife protruding from his chest.  
  
“Don’t!” Harper barked menacingly training her gun on the other guard so fast that the man had not chance to aim at them. He let go of his weapon and raised his hands in surrender. “What the fuck, Octavia!” Harper exploded, glancing at the body.  
  
The eyes of the fallen guard stared at the ceiling as his life ended. His companion stared in disbelief as Harper roughly disarmed him. He knew better than putting up a fight.  
  
Octavia knelt next to the guard and watched him.  
  
“Octavia!” Clarke’s voice echoed in the corridor as the rest of the group raced towards them from their hiding spot. They reached the cells within seconds. Argus took a position keeping an eye on Lexa and guarding the rear.  
  
Octavia did not look up. She pulled the knife free from the man’s chest. “He was reaching for his rifle,” Octavia said without a hint of remorse. She cleaned the knife on the man’s clothing and got up, daring Clarke to say something.  
  
Clarke stared at Octavia and then her gaze flicked to Harper who avoided her eyes. Brilliant. She knelt next to the body and checked for vital signs. He was gone. She closed his eyes. She shot a look at Octavia who started searching the man’s body. There was a cold harshness in the girl’s eyes that she had never seen. She knew Octavia could be fierce but this went beyond that.  
  
“ _Heda_ ,” Nyko said in a mixture between respect and puzzlement when they saw their commander.  
  
“ _Ge yo ogud_.” Lexa acknowledged them with a nod. The five Grounders stood near the door, impatient to get out.  
  
“We have to hurry,” Clarke said.  
  
“No keys,” Octavia informed looking at the surviving guard.  
  
Lexa walked up to the guard. “Give them to me,” she growled.  
  
The man looked at her and then at Clarke. Sudden recognition dawned on his face.  
  
“You’re Clarke,” he said.  
  
“No shit,” Murphy quipped as Octavia handed him the guard’s rifle. With a mocking glance, Murphy took a position in the front, should anyone come from that end of the corridor.  
  
“The keys,” Clarke repeated coming to stand next to Lexa. Her tone brooked no arguments.  
  
The guard’s eyes went from Clarke to Lexa. Reluctantly, the man held the keys in his hand, hesitating for a second. Clarke flicked her gaze from the man to Lexa. The guard picked up the message and gave the keys to the Grounder.  
  
Harper tucked her gun in her waist and handcuffed the guard immediately.    
  
Lexa approached the cells door and opened it.  
  
Nyko exited the cells first and bowed to Lexa. “Commander.” The rest murmured the same as they filed out of prison and awaited their commander’s orders, unsure of what was going on.  
  
Clarke made a gesture to Harper. The young woman gave the guard a shove into the cell and followed him. As soon he entered, Harper knocked him unconscious with the butt of her gun.  
  
“ _Sis em au_ ,” Lexa ordered. Two Grounders immediately helped Harper picking up the guard’s unconscious body and placing him on one of the benches. They covered him with one of the blankets they had been using.  
  
Argus returned Octavia her sword. The young woman approached Nyko and gave him her sword.  
  
“Licoln?” Nyko asked in a soft voice, placing a hand on Octavia’s shoulder.  
  
Octavia shook her head. She would not cry. Not after she avenged his death. She squared her jaw. “ _Sis ai au sis em op der_ ,” she asked him.  
  
Within seconds, they put the body of the guard on another bench and covered him. They locked the door after them.  
  
Lexa gave one of her swords to another Grounder.  
  
“We don’t have much time,” Clarke said looking at Grounders. “I am sorry we don’t have any more weapons.”  
  
“Trikru do not need… _fayogon_ ,” a female Grounder boasted with a thick accent.  
  
Lexa and Clarke exchanged a look.  
  
“We are helping Skaikru. _Zo sta gon we. Oso souda hos op_ ,” Lexa told them.  
  
“ _Sha, Heda_.”  
  
Lexa took a look at her people. Not all of them were armed. But they were experts in hand to hand combat.  
  
“ _Hoz op_ ,” she said.  
  
Octavia and Harper took the lead again.  
  
Pike was next.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Jasper carried two steaming cups that hopefully would give them the boost they needed. He had decided against waiting for the food to come out. The longer he stayed in the cafeteria the more nervous he got. He was becoming paranoid. But after what he had witnessed in Raven’s quarters and his trip to retrieve the wristbands paranoia was most likely the way to go.  
  
He had left the mess hall looking over his shoulder checking if someone was following him, quickening his pace to reach medical as soon as he could.  
  
The corridors were deserted and he felt relieved. He did not want to go run into anyone at this point. After a minute or so, he turned a corner into the corridor that led to medical.  
  
Several yards ahead two figures emerged from another corridor to the left.  
  
Jasper stopped dead on his tracks and looked for a place to hide. A door to one of the rooms on his right was partially opened. He squeezed into the opening praying whoever lived there was not home. He set the cups on the floor and peered from his hiding place.  
  
Jaha and Jackson advanced calmly through the corridor.  
  
Jasper had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He decided to follow them at a distance. They could only be going to medical. What were they planning anyway? Fighting the guards? Were they that stupid?  
  
A moment later, they neared medical. The entrance was just a little up ahead to the right. They stopped.  
  
  
  
Raven observed Abby working on her desk. Her strength had returned. Pain was not even a memory. And the effects of the sedative the doctor had given her earlier that night had worn off.  
  
She slightly raised her left leg. She watched with satisfaction as the limb responded well to the instruction. She took stock of her body and was satisfied. She got up silently, testing one last time that the leg could fully support her weight. The body responded without the slightest hitch. Perfect.  
  
Yes. It was time.  
  
She approached Abby in silence.  
  
The woman was hunched over what was probably one of the wristbands they had managed to get. It had been a commendable effort. Pointless nonetheless. Her plan was proceeding at an acceptable pace. The few setbacks it had experienced had been caused by the humans’ illogical behavior.  
  
Just as she was about to reach her, she dragged her left leg  making a soft sound. Abby spun around in her chair.  
  
“Raven?” she said with a quizzical expression. “How you feel?”  
  
Raven slightly cocked her head to one side.  
  
The women’s sudden look of dread told her she knew something was not right. “You’re not… You’re not her,” Abby said with a tremor in her voice. She looked around her. Surely, trying to ascertain her probabilities of escape and the means to do so. Her gaze came to rest on a nearby tray with vials and injections.  
  
“Don’t,” Raven said. “It will be useless now. I have complete access to Raven’s neural pathways.”  
  
She saw Abby’s face hardened. Sometimes humans were quite  predictable. Raven did not hesitate. She punched her. The woman crumpled to the floor, unconscious.  
  
She looked at the hospital’s entrance.

Just in time.  
  
  
  
Jasper peeked around the corner. His stomach plummeted. Where the hell were the guards? He waited for the guards coming out of medical and preventing Jaha and Jackson from entering.  
  
The men stood still for a moment as if waiting for something. A moment later, they entered.  
  
“Fuck,” Jasper exclaimed. He waited a moment half expecting to see them being thrown out. He couldn’t go against them. He had to get help.  
  
“Pike,” he muttered. He shot from his hiding spot and took off running.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: As always comments are more than welcome. Let me know what you think or what you feel might happen next. 
> 
>  
> 
> I want to take the chance to thank @yesternightScribe who patientely puts up with me and my out of the blue questions regarding the world of The 100 and Trigedasleng. At this rate, she will deserve a medal.
> 
> Trigedasleng translations:
> 
> Ge yo ogud -- Be ready.  
> Sis em au -- Help her.  
> Sis ai au sis em op der -- Help me take him there.  
> Fayogon -- firearm.  
> Zo sta gon we. Oso souda hos op -- We're moving out. We have to hurry.  
> Hoz op -- Let's go


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is a scene of self-harm in this chapter. If you feel uncomfortable, please skip it.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigedasleng:  
> Shaun emo op -- Lead them.  
> Nyko, kom ai -- Nyko, with me.  
> Hoz op! -- Let's go!

Bellamy stared at Pike and nodded slowly.  
  
“We can’t afford losing valuable people either,” he said. “Sinclair is an engineer, Brian and Miller are good marksmen—”  
  
“I know their value, Bellamy,” Pike said in a harsh tone.  
  
“We can’t kill everyone who disagree with us,” Bellamy argued. “Kane could still be useful. He’s one of the few people who knows Grounders better. You could keep him in prison—”  
  
“Kane will be executed at sundown,” Pike said looking at Marcus. Kane shifted his gaze to the chancellor. The man who stood before him was not the same man he had known for years up in the Ark. He had changed. For the worse.  
  
“What about them?” Bellamy asked pointing at the group. Sinclair, Miller and Brian watched the exchange with baited breath.  
  
Pike studied them and walked nearby Bellamy coming to stand in front of the group.  
  
“They’re good people, Pike. When war breaks out we will need every man and woman to face the Grounder army,” Bellamy reasoned. “We can’t spare anyone.”  
  
Pike shot a glance at him. “They also betrayed their own people,” he sentenced.  
  
Pike walked over to Bellamy.  
  
“There is something I don’t quite understand. How did you fall into their trap?” he said.  
  
Bellamy said nothing. His eyes flicked over to Kane and then back to Pike.  
  
The chancellor looked around at his guards and stepped away from him. “I mean, your sister wasn’t in Arkadia. Last thing I heard she was going to Polis. She left after our attack on the Grounders army. How did she contact you?”  
  
Bellamy tightened his hold on his rifle. “She used a radio,” he said. The guards were now playing an even closer attention to the conversation. Bellamy didn’t see any sympathetic eyes directed at him.  
  
“A radio,” Pike repeated. He looked at Kane who kept a neutral expression on his face. “It’s strange, you see, because security did not pick up any messages in our frequency.”  
  
Bellamy realized he had to convince Pike or everything would go to hell.   
  
“She used the old frequency we first used. When we were on our own.”  
  
“And you happened to be listening to that frequency?” Pike asked.  
  
“I was worried about my sister,” Bellamy defended himself. “I wanted her to come back instead of staying with the Grounders so yeah, I kept a radio with the old frequency. I kept hoping she would come back to her senses,” he said adamantly. “I’ve always taken care of her and I always will. We are family.”  
  
Pike stood still watching him carefully.  
  
“Some ties are stronger than blood, Bellamy,” he said. “And it is important to recognize them because our survival could very well depend on those bonds.”  
  
Bellamy needed to get close to him. If he could take him down, everything would work out. He had to get close to him. He gave a few steps in Pike’s direction. He flicked a glance to his group and gave the signal to be ready.  
  
“I realize now that I made a mistake.”  
  
That got Pike’s attention.  
  
“I know that. And I’ve learned my lesson. I know where I stand. That’s why I’m here. With them,” he said pointing at his group. “We all want to do the right thing.”  
  
Pike studied him. After a moment. “Then prove it. Tell me. How many more people are using that frequency and how many were involved in Kane’s escape?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You heard me,” Pike said. “I want the names of the people involved in Kane’s escape. I am sure there are more than those,” he said pointing at the group.  
  
Bellamy looked over at Kane and his group. He didn’t know all the details but he knew enough. He stalled for time.  
  
“Maybe I can refresh your memory giving you the first name,” he said. He turned towards the entrance and made a signal to one of the guards.   
  
A few seconds later, a figure stumbled out of the station.  
  
Monty walked with his hands behind his head. Another figure followed him with a gun trained on his back at close range.  
  
His mother.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Harper walked in front, gun ready. They had quickened their pace. The sooner they got this over with the better. The whole station would wake up any moment now. They had barely averted some run-ins with early risers. The longer it took for them to reach the entrance the higher the chances of being found out.   
  
Clarke glanced behind her. Except for Argus, Nyko and another a female Grounder, Denae and another three Grounders had no weapons. She just hoped she could keep the casualties to a minimum.  
  
They advanced through the corridors. They turned a corner. The entrance was close now.  
  
“Clarke?” a voice called from their back. Footsteps grew louder. “Clarke!”  
  
The group stopped dead on its tracks. Clarke whirled around and looked in the direction of the voice. She gave a few steps.  
  
“Jasper?”  
  
The young man was running towards them.  
  
“You have to come with me,” he said gasping for breath.  
  
“What—?” she began to ask with a puzzled expression.  
  
“Clarke, your mother is in danger. Jaha has her. She and Raven. Please, no time, ” Jasper implored. He started to run back in the direction he had come, looking back at them, expecting Clarke to follow him.  
  
Clarke made up her mind. “Stick to the plan. I’ll see you later,” Clarke said to Harper, holding her gun firmly in her hand.  
  
“Wait. I’m going with you,” Lexa intervened. “Argus, _shaun emo op_.  _Nyko, kom ai_ ,” she ordered.  
  
“ _Sha, Heda_ ,” the man answered.   
  
“Clarke?” Harper asked.  
  
“Do it,” Clarke said in a harsh voice as she started running after Jasper. Lexa and Nyko following her.  
  
Harper exchanged glances with Octavia and then saw Argus taking a position right behind them.  
  
“Okay,” she said.  
  
“ _Hoz op_!” Octavia said as she moved out.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Her left temple and eye throbbed painfully. She was aware she was in a uncomfortable position on the floor. Her right arm was pinned beneath her body. She tried to move but a wave of dizziness counseled against it.   
  
She heard footsteps growing louder until they stopped right next to her. She tried to open her eyelids halfway and saw two pair of boots standing next to her.  
  
What was she doing on the—?  
  
Someone grabbed her roughly. Her head exploded in pain. She groaned, wincing, and shut her eyes. Her stomach was threatening to revolt as well. She clamped her mouth shut as if that could actually prevent throwing up and waited for the wave to pass.  
  
Her body was jostled as she was propped back on her chair. They roughly took their hands to her back and tied them up. She didn’t have the strength to even raise her head and look up much less to put up a fight.  
  
More noises. Another chair being dragged, the metal scrapping against the floor, as it was placed close to her. Someone checked her bindings jerking them a few times to test them. As the person came around her chair, they slightly bumped into right shoulder, jostling her again.  
  
Abby slowly opened her eyes, trying to fight off nausea, and raised her head. She began to get bearings.   
  
Jaha was sitting on a chair in front of her while Jackson was standing next to him, with his back to her, manipulating something. She could hear something being placed on a metallic surface on what she glimpsed was a medical cart. A tray perhaps? She didn’t have a chance to see since Jackson turned around and blocked the view with his body. A third figure approached from her right. She turned her head.  
  
“Raven?” she called her.  
  
The young woman glanced at her but her demeanor was all wrong and her eyes were devoid of emotion. She came to stand behind Jaha. Abby noticed Raven did not limp anymore. The woman clasped her hands at the front. Abby noticed the knuckles in Raven’s right hand were a bit red and swollen.   
  
“Hello, Abby,” she said in a mellow voice and with a slight tilt of her head.  
  
Abby stared at her. The change was dramatical. So unlike Raven. Her facial expression was gone, her body language was…   
  
“What happened to Raven?” she demanded with sudden dread.  
  
“Raven is fine,” Jaha’s voice caught her attention. “We helped her. She is no longer in pain, Abby.”  
  
Abby turned her gaze to look at him. She shot him a scathing look.  
  
“I don’t know what you’ve given her but that’s not help,” Abby said dismissively. “That’s not Raven. You’ve taken away her will.”  
  
“You are wrong, Abby,” Raven said staring at her with a cool expression. “Raven is in the City of Light. She is not in pain anymore, either physical or emotional. All her needs have been taken care of. She is content.”  
  
Abby stared at her uncomprehending. Why was she talking in third person?  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“I am ALIE. I have taken complete control of Raven’s neural pathways,” Raven said with a imperturbable expression.  
  
Abby stared at her, analyzing the woman who stood before her. She recalled those words… right before Raven, or ALIE, punched the lights out of her. Everything had changed. It was terrifying.  
  
“Abby,” Jaha said in a soft caring voice. Abby turned her attention to him. “It would be so much easier if you took the chip.” He produced the key in his right hand, holding it so she could see it.  
  
“I am not taking that,” she announced firmly to the group. Jackson was watching her with a sort of benevolent expression.  
  
Jaha averted his eyes for a second and then focused his attention once more on Abby. He slightly leaned forward, chip in his hand.  
  
“If you take the key Abby, you will not suffer any pain. Don’t you want that? Imagine all our people free of pain. No illness, no hunger. There’s no death. There is no suffering in the City of Light, Abby. If you took the key you would understand. There is so much peace in the City. We can give them that.”  
  
“You are not solving anyone’s problems, Jaha. What you are talking about is a drug that robs people of their will. You are just deluding them. If that’s your idea of help, you can go float yourself,” Abby spat angrily.  
  
Jaha turned her head to his left, glancing at Raven who gave him a slight nod. The man let out a sigh.  
  
“I had hoped it didn’t have to come to this,” Jaha said getting up from the chair. He pushed the chair to one side, leaving Raven right in front of her. Jackson picked up something from the tray but Abby could not see what it was.  
  
“You can do to me whatever you want. I will never take that thing,” she said to Raven.  
  
Jackson turned towards her. She saw it. An object she was very familiar with. A scalpel.  
  
A wave of dread coursed through her body. So, it came down to that.   
  
“You will never convince me to take that chip,” Abby said defiantly. “You can torture me if what you want.”  
  
“I am sorry but you leave us no choice,” Jaha said with a hint of regret in his voice. “Perhaps you may reconsider your decision.”  
  
Raven, or ALIE, stepped forward and took the scalpel from Jackson. Abby watched them, heart pounding in her chest. Her entire body tensed in anticipation.  
  
Raven came to stand some three feet from her and looked at Abby straight in the eye. The doctor raised her chin, daring her.  
  
Without averting her eyes, Raven took the scalpel to her left wrist. The intention was clear.  
  
“No, Raven!” Abby screamed.  
  
The blade cut into the flesh at the base of the wrist and traced upward along the forearm. A deep cut, not very long. Blood gushed from the wound, painting the floor. Raven kept staring at Abby, unflinching, not a sound of pain. Nothing.  
  
“Raven!” she screamed. Her instincts as a doctor kicked in.  “Let me help her!” the doctor begged, trying to break free.   
  
Raven was bleeding profusely. The young woman barely held the scalpel with her injured left hand and sliced the other wrist open. She let the scalpel fall to the floor amid splatters of blood.  
  
Abby knew it was only a matter of time before Raven went into shock. She started crying, helplessly.  
  
“Please, please, let me help her. She’s going to bleed to death,” she sobbed. “Please.”  
  
“Take the key Abby,” Jaha said as if trying to reason with a child.  
  
“She will bleed to death if we don’t do something,” she warned. Her eyes went to Jackson. “Jackson, please,” Abby implored.  
  
The man just stared at her with an neutral expression. Raven swayed and fell to the floor unconscious. Neither Jaha nor Jackson reacted.  
  
“Raven!” Abby called. “Please,” she urged them once more.  
  
“The only way to help Raven is to take the key, Abby”, Jaha stated.  
  
“Let me help her. Please,” she begged trying to break free. The ties were bound tight. There was no escaping. “She’s dying.”  
  
“There is no death in the City of Light. You can help her but only after you take the key,” Jaha said in a calm voice. “You will realize how much better things are in the City of Light. We can help our people.”  
  
Abby shot him a look. “Then let me help Raven.”  
  
Jaha leaned forward, holding the chip right in front of her.  
  
“Take the key and you will be able to save Raven,” he said. “It is the only way.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Monty?” Bellamy called.  
  
Monty was trembling, still in shock. “I— I’m sorry,” he managed to say.  
  
His mother shoved him forward. Monty managed not to stumble much again.  
  
“What is this all about Pike?” Kane demanded. Sinclair, Brian and Miller tightened their hold on their rifles. The security guards did as well. A face-off. Everyone was watching everyone. One false move and someone would snap.  
  
Pike walked up to Monty. Hannah kept her gun trained on her son with a resolute expression on her face.  
  
“This is about loyalty, Marcus,” Pike started to explain.   
  
Bellamy shot a look at Pike and then at Monty and his mother.  
  
“If we want to survive, certain bonds are meant to be stronger than blood,” Pike boasted. “Hannah proved that already back at Farm Station,” he said proudly.  
  
Monty turned deathly pale. “What?” he stammered. “What is he talking about, mom?” Monty tried to turn to look at her but she dug the gun on his back. Monty kept looking forward.  
  
“I am sorry. We have to stick together. Pike is right,” she said with a slight hint of remorse. “Your father was sometimes a difficult man, Monty.”  
  
Monty kept his gaze trained on Kane, tears started streaming down his face. The betrayal cut through him deeply. He couldn’t… He just couldn’t imagine.  
  
Pike approached Bellamy reaching out his arms as if encompassing Arkadia.  
  
“This is where you make your stand Bellamy,” Pike said. “When you have to make the right choice.”  
  
Bellamy looked from Pike to Marcus and the group and back to Pike.  
  
“It is a very easy choice, Bellamy,” Pike said as he walked up to him, “if you know where your loyalties are.”  
  
Bellamy studied him for a moment. His eyes betraying nothing. He looked one last time at Kane and made a gesture with his head. An apology. A decision.  
  
“You’re right,” he said to Pike, relaxing his posture. He pushed the rifle to one side, letting it hang from his shoulder, and reached out his right hand.  
  
“Bellamy—” Marcus said in warning.  
  
Pike smiled. “I knew you’d make—”  
  
Bellamy grabbed him forcibly, maneuvered him into a choke hold and took his gun with his left hand and pressed it to Pike’s head. The muzzle digging into his skin.  
  
“Drop your weapons!!!” he yelled at the guards. “Or I will kill him.”  
  
The guards raised their rifles. Sinclair, Miller and Brian did the same. Sinclair trained his weapon on Pike while the other two aimed at the guards.   
  
“Stand down now!!” A Farm guard yelled at Bellamy. The other four were aiming at Sinclair and the rest. “Stand down your weapons or we will open fire!”  
  
Kane shook his handcuffs breaking free.  
  
“Don’t shoot!! Don’t shoot!!” Marcus ordered. He stepped into the line of fire, hands raised in supplication, looking back and forth, trying to diffuse an explosive situation. “Let’s calm down!”  
  
“What the fuck are you doing Bellamy?” Pike demanded, pissed off.  
  
“What I should have done from the beginning,” he said with a tense voice. He kept Pike’s body angled towards the guards using it as a shield.  
  
“Marcus, call off your men and surrender,” Pike called out. “There is nothing you can do.”  
  
“You are wrong, Pike. Things have changed,” Kane explained. He looked around at the guards. Maybe he could still sway some of them over.  
  
“Listen to me, the situation in Polis has changed. For the worse. If we go to war, they will wipe us out”, he tried to reason. He addressed the three guards that were more likely to listen to him.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Marcus,” Pike yelled. “Put down your weapons and let go of me.” Bellamy tightened his hold on him.   
  
“If we don’t work together,” Marcus ignored Pike’s remark, “I can assure you none of this,” he said making a gesture at the station, “will remain standing. Everything we’ve fought for will be for nothing. All our sacrifices will be in vain. There is a way to avoid that. There is another way of doing things that do not involve bloodshed. But Pike has to step down,” he said pointing at Pike. “He’ll be treated with dignity. All of you. You have my word. You know me,” he said looking at all the guards.  
  
The three guards from the Ark hesitated. Two of them pointed at guards from Farm station. A few moments later, the third did the same. Another guard from Farm joined them. They turned on the other guards, training their rifles on them.  
  
The tables had turned.  
  
Marcus turned to look at Pike. “It’s over Pike.”  
  
“The hell it is,” he growled. “Drop your weapons, now,” he threatened.   
  
Bellamy held him tightly in the choke hold. He could feel Pike’s body tensing as if ready to attack. But then he relaxed.  
  
“Kane, drop your weapons and surrender or the kid dies,” he said loudly.  
  
The eyes focused on Monty and his mother.  
  
“It will be another death on your head, Marcus,” Pike continued. “Surrender and no one has to die. This coup will fail,” he pronounced.  
  
Hannah flicked her glance from Pike to her son and raised her gun to Monty’s head. The young man felt the cold barrel grazing his fingers at the back of his head.  
  
“Mom?” he said with a tremor in his voice. His hands started shaking.  
  
“I’m sorry, son. You should have listened to me,” she said.  
  
Kane stopped dead on his tracks. They were not close enough to try to get to them in time. They could not save Monty.  
  
“The kid will die if you don’t surrender Marcus,” Pike repeated as if he could read his mind. “It will be on your conscience. Another death.”  
  
Marcus looked at Hannah and then Pike.  
  
“Hannah,” Pike called.  
  
The woman tightened her grip on the gun and gave a step back, extending his arm and keeping the aim on his son’s head. Monty barely dared to turn his head and look.  
  
“Pike, don’t,” Bellamy said gritting his teeth. “There is no need for that.”  
  
“Then drop your weapons,” Pike responded.  
  
Bellamy looked at Marcus which turned his head to look at Monty.  
  
A dark figure emerged from the station’s entrance moving faster than Kane had ever seen. More figures burst out the door right behind her. Grounders.  
  
Octavia lunged forward grabbing Hannah’s arm and placing a knife blade on her neck.   
  
“Drop you weapon,” Octavia hissed angrily. Hannah froze and relaxed her grip, letting go of her gun.  
  
Harper and Murphy closed in on the guards before they could react, aiming their rifles at them. Pike’s men were pinned down now.  
  
“Stand down,” Harper ordered them. “Now!”  
  
The Grounders positioned themselves behind Murphy and Harper. They might not be holding a firearm but everyone knew just how good they were in hand-to-hand combat.  
  
Monty slowly turned around. His mother stood very still, her eyes fixed on him, with an expression of sorrow on her face.  
  
In the background, a large figure approached Octavia. Nyko went to stand near her, sword in hand, taking Hannah as a prisoner. Monty watched with a sense of detachment that scared him. He did not recognize her. He felt cold.  
  
Octavia picked up the gun from the floor and tucked it in the small of her back. She glanced in passing at Monty as she walked towards Pike.  
  
“I said stand down,” Harper repeated loudly.  
  
The men looked at Pike and then took in the situation. They were outnumbered. They dropped their weapons and raised their hands.   
  
It was over.  
  
Bellamy watched, relieved his sister was fine.   
  
Sinclair got a pair of handcuffs from one the Farm guards and tossed it over to Kane.   
  
Marcus approached Pike. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Octavia striding towards them with a closed off expression. Her eyes fixed on Pike and Bellamy. He saw the knife in her hand.  
  
Octavia was still a few feet away. But her intent was clear. She lunged at Pike with a war cry.  
  
Kane blocked her with his body while Bellamy retreated pulling back Pike along with him, trying to avoid his sister.  
  
“Octavia!” Kane yelled at her. He grabbed her arm and held her. He stared at her, holding her tightly. “Don’t.”  
  
Octavia couldn’t keep her eyes off Pike. Hatred was rolling off of her body in waves.  
  
“He murdered Lincoln,” she said through gritted teeth.  
  
“And he will stand trial for that,” Kane said, looking intently at her. He saw she was about to protest. “He will. I promise,” he added in a softer tone.  
  
Sinclair approached them. He looked at Octavia and tried to get her knife. The young woman pulled away angrily, sheathing the knife in her leg holster. Sinclair stayed put, blocking Octavia from further advancing on Pike. Still the young woman shot daggers at him. She finally stalked over to be with Argus.  
  
Marcus took the handcuffs from Sinclair.  
  
“Get their weapons,” he murmured to Sinclair. The man nodded and walked away.  
  
Kane walked up to Pike who stared at him in defiance. Kane made a gesture to Bellamy. He released Pike but kept his gun trained on him.  
  
Pike turned his head slightly sideways so he could see Bellamy. Marcus reached out, handcuffs in one hand.  
  
“Pike,” he said.   
  
The man turned his head. His expression was one of conceding defeat but not surrender.  
  
“It’s over,” Marcus said.  
  
The man extended his arms in front of him and let Marcus handcuff him.  
  
Both men eyed each other. Neither said anything.   
  
The handcuffs locked around Pike’s wrists with a loud click. His reign was over.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Abby took a look at the chip Jaha was holding in his hand and then at the unconscious body of Raven. The blood was pooling around the wrists. Her face had paled. She didn’t have that much time.  
  
She inhaled softly and closed her eyes. There was only one way out of this. She took comfort thinking that Clarke would at least be safe in Polis. She exhaled audibly.  
  
“Okay,” she said, gathering her strength. “Okay, I’ll do it.” A moment. “Just let me help her.”  
  
Jaha looked to one side and nodded. He approached Abby, key in his hand.  
  
“Step away from her,” a voice sounded from the door. “Now.”  
  
Jaha and Jackson turned around. Abby leaned her body so she could take a look.  
  
“Clarke?” she said with a shaky hopeful voice.  
  
Clarke stood by the door, gun firmly held in her hand, pointing at Jaha. She came in. Commander Lexa followed her coming to stand right beside her, sword in hand, and a large man, a Grounder, entered the room after them. Last was Jasper.   
  
“Clarke,” Jaha said as if nothing was out of the ordinary. His hand closed around the chip, hiding it from everyone’s view.  
  
“I said step away from her,” Clarke said stressing out the words. She took a couple of steps inside, followed by Lexa, sword in hand. The man walked farther in. He had a similar sword. Clarke was effectively flanked by both Grounders. Jasper stepped to one side and looked at Raven’s unconscious body. His eyes darted to Abby.  
  
Jaha took a look at them. He slowly stepped away from Abby and tilted his head slightly to his left. He glanced in Jackson’s direction. The man lunged at Clarke.  
  
She didn’t hesitate. She shot once. The sound reverberated loudly in the room.  
  
Jackson reeled at the impact and fell on his knees. A crimson stain appeared on his right thigh, growing rapidly. The man raised his head and slowly stood up as if nothing had happened.  
  
Lexa and Clarke exchanged a glance. Lexa held her sword tightly and stepped closer to Clarke.  
  
“Jackson?” Abby watching him incredulously.  
  
The man did not acknowledge her. He took a step forward.  
  
Clarke shot him.  
  
His body fell on his back and remained still this time.  
  
Clarke turned and aimed at Jaha.  
  
The man turned his head again to the left for a moment, as if listening. There was a flicker of emotion on his face that disappeared almost instantaneously. Smiling at them, he raised his hands in surrender.  
  
He wasn’t holding the key.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, comments are deeply appreciated. Let me know what you think.
> 
> It took me longer to write this one because there's a lot going on BTS that I needed to organize. 
> 
> Thanks to @Yesternightscribe for being my beta reader. There is nothing like having someone tear your writing apart to improve it.
> 
> The trig translations are at the end.

The morning drizzle and cold breeze announced an unpleasant day ahead. It was a little past dawn. And yet there was no news.  
  
Indra was still lying on the cot, fully clothed, listening intently to the sounds in the house. They had arrived late in the night after dodging the Azgeda guards patrolling the streets. She had managed to doze on and off, alert to any strange noises. She heard the door open and someone walk in. Her body tensed.   
  
She got up, wincing when she tried to rest her weight on her right arm. Taimi had helped her clean the wound last night. It was healing nicely with no signs of swelling or infection but her shoulder was still very tender and sore. She would need to train hard to regain range of movement and strength.  
  
She walked carefully to the door, trying not to make any sounds with her boots. The voice of a man reached her ears. A voice she easily recognized. The wait was over. She relaxed and went downstairs.   
  
Light filtered through the curtains of two small windows. A pot hanged above the hearth, a wooden ladle resting inside. The aroma of spices and cooked meat drifted towards her.  
  
Taimi had just put a porringer in front of Titus who sat at a small table when she noticed Indra.  
  
“ _Fleimkepa_ ,” she murmured to Titus and made a gesture with her head towards Indra.   
  
The man half-turned to see her. Indra walked down the last steps and bowed her head slightly in greeting.   
  
“Indra,” Taimi said. She went over to the hearth, filled a second bowl and placed it on the table.   
  
Indra took a seat in front of Titus. The man was hunched over his bowl. He hadn’t changed clothes. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. He ate slowly, mechanically. The spoon didn’t reach the bottom of the bowl. It just dipped enough into the surface before making its way up. Titus’ eyes remained fixed to some point near the slice of corn bread that laid to his right side, completely untouched.  
  
Taimi brought Indra a spoon and corn bread. The warrior murmured a _mochof_ , grabbed her spoon, took a bite and savored the food. She shot a glance at Taimi. The scout was a good cook. Her stomach immediately craved for more making Indra realize just how hungry she was. The stew, made of meat with some vegetables and spices, was delicious. She dug the spoon again and stole a glance at Titus. The man kept his gaze away from his bowl. He was deep in thought. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to tell what he was eating if she asked him.  
  
The young woman placed two cups with water on the table. The action seemed to bring Titus back into the present.  
  
“Taimi, you may go now,” Titus said. “ _Mochof_.” With a hint of a smile he indicated the food.  
  
The young woman gave him a slight nod and quietly left the house.  
  
Indra cast a glance after her.  
  
“She’s loyal,” he said, eating, without looking at Indra. “Eat, please.”  
  
They ate in silence for a few minutes but Indra wanted answers. “The commander said you would explain to me what’s going on in the capital,” she said. It was not a request.  
  
Titus took a deep breath, left the spoon in the bowl and leaned back on his chair. “As you know, Ontari kom Azgeda is the new commander,” he said. “She killed the Natblidas in their sleep.”   
  
Indra looked at him sharply. “ _Bushhada_ ,” she cursed under her breath. One thing was killing an enemy in battle. Another thing entirely was killing a fellow Natblida outside the arena. No self-respected warrior would ever do that.   
  
“A civil war is coming, _Gonalida_ Indra. Azgeda troops are camped nearby and they patrol the streets of the capital. The new commander is surrounding herself with former Queen Nia’s advisors,” Titus said. He pushed his bowl to one side, having lost his appetite. “She is breaking away from our ways. She shows no respect for our traditions. Some ambassadors are already speaking of abandoning the coalition. A few of them are leaving Polis right after the Recitation of the Lineage in preparation for war.”   
  
“Trikru will not be able to hold their own,” Indra said, her gaze falling on the table. “Too many fell at the massacre,” she trailed off.  
  
They remained silent for a moment. Both realizing they were living the end of an era and were about to enter a very dark period. Everything Lexa had achieved during her ruling would be destroyed. The Coalition was only the first casualty. Many more would follow.  
  
“My arrogance brought on all of this,” Titus said with heavy sigh.  
  
Indra shot a look at him. He had never seen the Fleimkepa admit to such a weakness. Not to anyone, although she happened to agree with him.  
  
“I betrayed her trust,” he whispered. “I did not believe in her wisdom. I did not believe in her”.  
  
Indra lowered her head and averted her eyes. She had not trusted in the Commander either. She had opposed her until Heda reminded her who the leader of the Coalition was. She had failed her when Lexa needed her support and help the most.  
  
“If it all goes well,” he said after a moment, “I entrust you to take Taimi back to the Commander. I’ll send her to you when the time is near. In the meantime, please get some rest,” he said. “I would advise against venturing outside. The streets of Polis are not safe anymore.”  
  
“I will contact the commander and inform her,” she said.   
  
Titus nodded, got up wearily from the table and walked over to the door.  
  
“Is it true? Did the Flame reject her?” Indra surprised herself asking.  
  
Titus turned to face her. “Yes,” he said with an audible exhale of breath. “But, as far as I’m concerned, there is only one true commander.” He shifted his weight, holding his head with pride, wounded pride. “As _Fleimkepa_ my duty is to return the Flame to its rightful owner: Leksa kom Trikru.”  
  
Indra got up and walked over to him.   
  
“And the usurper?”  
  
Titus stood tall. Head held high, and with a razor sharp look he said, “I will take care of Ontari. You’ll need to be ready.”  
  
Indra took a good look at him. Titus seemed like a man with only one duty left to fulfill. As a warrior, she understood very well that feeling. She held out her arm.  
  
Titus looked at her. A ghost of a smile grazed his lips. He reached out and they shook their forearms. Two people who didn’t always see eye to eye but respected each other nonetheless. Two people who had both made mistakes and were willing to atone for them.  
  
“ _Ste fir raun_ ,” Indra said.  
  
Titus looked at her. He recognized the words. He stood straight and dipped his head, “ _Ste yuj_.”   
  
“ _Oso kik raun_ —,” Indra continued.  
  
“— _ogeda_ ,” Titus finished the sentence.   
  
They stood in silence. Their arms still linked. Comrades, sometimes, adversaries, but always with a deep respect for one another.  
  
Titus turned around, opened the door and, without turning back, left in silence. The door closed after him with a soft click.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The bag clanked loudly on the table in the conference room. Over a dozen metal wristbands spilled out of the bag onto the surface. All of them showed signs of burnt circuitry.  
  
Clarke’s gaze swept over the wristbands with a sinking feeling. Their hope to bring Raven back was disappearing rapidly. She picked up one and held it in her hand. The one object that had marked all of the delinquents to die on Earth had now become their salvation.  
  
“All tampered with,” Sinclair said gesturing to the bag. He looked at Clarke and Lexa and then his gaze swept over to Kane standing at the other side of the table. “I might be able to salvage some. But I can’t say right now how many. They certainly knew what they were doing.”  
  
Clarke dropped the wristband on the table and looked over at Kane.  
  
“We need them. Mom said it’s the only way to bring Raven back,” she said. She focus her attention on the wristbands with troubled expression. “To bring them back,” she said shacking her head.  
  
Kane breathed deeply. “Commander,” he said looking at Lexa, “you are sure the new Heda will attack?”  
  
Lexa glanced at Clarke and then focused her attention on him. “Yes. The—” she said, a small frown creased her eyebrows. “The Ascension ceremony should finish tonight. From that moment, Ontari will be in command. It won’t take her long to raise an army.”  
  
“The Azgeda troops are already near Polis,” Clarke said.   
  
“Yes.” Lexa said. “And there are more warriors along the blockade line.”  
  
Sinclair and Kane exchanged a glance.   
  
“You seem certain that Ontari is the new commander,” Kane commented.   
  
“I am. The other Natblidas would have respected our ways,” Lexa said with a glint in her eyes. “Ontari will try to gather around her as many clans as she can. But I believe she will attack as soon as possible.”  
  
Kane glanced at the wristbands. “We need time we may not have. We don’t know just how many more people have taken those chips.”  
  
Clarke looked from Kane to Sinclair. “More people?”  
  
“Raven, Jaha and Jackson are not the only ones,” Kane said, gesturing to Sinclair to continue.  
  
“We found nearly thirty people—” Sinclair said indicating the wristbands.   
  
“Thirty?” Clarke said glancing at the table.   
  
“— huddled in the store room where we found these.”   
  
She shot a look at Kane who looked as worried as she was.  
  
“We found them when we searched the room. They were just… standing there. They didn’t try to stop us. Didn’t raise their voices. Didn’t move… at all. It was weird,” he finished with a nervous gesture.  
  
“We’re keeping them there for the time being,” Kane said.   
  
“Allowing them to stay in that room could be too risky,” Clarke said, her gaze going to the wristbands again. There weren’t enough. “They should be in the cell with Jaha,” she said looking up and focusing on Kane with a determined expression. “If Ontari attacks, we would have to keep an eye on them and our own people.”  
  
“Clarke is right.” Lexa said. “Allow your enemies free movement and they will take advantage of it.”   
  
“They’re locked up. And our prison cells cannot hold that many people,” Sinclair said.   
  
“I will not send them to jail until we know exactly what we are dealing with,” Kane stated. “They haven’t done anything.”  
  
Clarke shook her head. “But people will start asking questions— ” she said.  
  
The door opened and Abby came in. She looked as tired as they did. The guards posted at the entrance closed the door behind her.  
  
Her gaze scanned the room quickly. “Clarke,” she gasped, rushing forward and holding her daughter’s face between her hands. Her eyes filling with tears as her gaze swept over Clarke’s body, checking there were no injuries.  
  
“I am okay, mom,” Clarke said, eyes brimming with tears as well, and trying to put up a brave front. “I am okay,” she said while softly caressing the bruise that her mother sported on her left temple.  
  
Abby cracked a smile and embraced her for a moment. Clarke returned the embrace but after a moment, she felt her mother stiffen in her arms and then lean back. Her mother was looking at someone standing behind her. Abby broke the embrace and took a step back.  
  
“Commander,” Abby greeted tersely.  
  
Clarke angled her body and saw Lexa returning the gesture with a formal bow of her head. “Abby.”  
  
“We were discussing our next steps, Abby,” Kane said from the other side of the meeting table.  
  
Abby glanced at Kane. It was the first time she saw him since their abrupt goodbye. Her lips suppressed the smile that shone in her eyes. Marcus nodded slightly and his gaze guided hers towards the table.  
  
Abby recognized the wristbands immediately and shot a look around the table.  
  
“All broken,” Sinclair promptly.  
  
“Can we fix them?”   
  
“I can’t promise anything.”  
  
“Do it,” Clarke cut in. She cast a glance at Kane realizing Kane was the chancellor again.   
  
Kane nodded in assent towards Sinclair. He turned his attention back to Abby. “How are they?”  
  
Abby let out a sigh. “Jackson is going to be okay. The bullet only grazed his head. The fall probably knocked him out,” she said looking at Clarke whose expression remained impassive. “He’ll be taken to the cell with Jaha before he comes out of sedation.” She shifted her weight. “As for Raven…” Abby looked pessimistic, “I tended to the cuts in the wrists,” she shuddered. “She’ll recover, physically.”  
  
“Physically?” Clarke asked.   
  
“I’m worried about her mind. Whatever this chip did to her, it’s inside of her head now.”  
  
“Inside how?” Clarke said, looking pointedly at her mother.   
  
“I don’t know if it makes much sense,” Abby said. She shot a glance at Kane and then at her daughter and Lexa. “Okay,” she gathered her thoughts, “Raven kept talking about an AI that was trying to get control of everyone. That it was in her head. Everything she saw or heard this AI knew. I managed to sedate her. But when she woke up she started saying that she had taken control of Raven’s neural pathways. Her whole demeanor had changed. She… It just wasn’t her,” she said unable to come up with a better explanation. “She called herself ALIE.”  
  
Clarke felt her stomach drop. It was much worse than she had feared. She exchanged a quick glance with Lexa. The Grounder had remained stoic. In full commander persona. But Clarke had seen the look of recognition in her eyes. “ALIE… ,” she took a deep breath. “ALIE was responsible for the nuclear apocalypse that destroyed Earth.”  
  
“How—?” Abby asked.  
  
“Wasn’t it an unprovoked attack?” Sinclair said.  
  
“Murphy knows the whole story. Ask him. He can tell it better than I. From what he told me, the plan of this AI, of ALIE, is to take as many people as it can to the City of Light. To save humanity,” Clarke said.  
  
“How?” Marcus asked perplexed.  
  
“The chips,” Abby said, her gaze went from the table to Kane and Clarke. “Jaha has been giving them out to whoever wanted to listen to him. B—but I thought I had confiscated all of them. I thought he didn’t have anymore.”  
  
“He did,” Sinclair said. He produced small pouch from inside the wristbands bag. “We found this partially hidden in a corner along with some wristbands.” He let the pouch drop on the table. Some of the keys scattered across the surface. “We haven’t found the key maker.”  
  
Lexa felt her body go rigid in shock. Her gaze fixed on the key closest to her. She recognized the symbol engraved on them. It was the same one she had tattooed in the back of her neck. The symbol of the first commander.  
  
“ _Presh memon-de_ ,” she muttered loud enough for only Clarke to hear.   
  
“The only key maker is locked away in my office,” Kane said.   
  
Lexa was transfixed. Right in front of her lay more than ten flames. They were of a lighter color and slightly thinner. But they all had the holy symbol.  
  
She noticed out of the corner of her eye Clarke looking sharply at her. She had a look of recognition on her face.  
  
Lexa was barely aware of what the rest of the people were talking about. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, warring at each other. She had hoped Clarke was somewhat mistaken. That it was all a trick, an illusion of some sort. She was wrong.  
  
“T—They had more?” Lexa heard Abby say. She was aware of movement nearby but her eyes remained fixed on the holy symbol. She gritted her teeth. Her fingers ached to touch one of them but she didn’t dare.  
  
Lexa’s vision tunneled until the only thing she saw the symbol. Everything else had faded into the background. Maybe those chips were not really flames. Maybe there was another explanation. Maybe someone had fooled the Skaikru. There was only one way to find out.  
  
She reached out, took the chip and held it between the fingers of her right hand. The pad of her thumb caressed the holy symbol, tracing the emblem with her nail. It felt real. It was real.  
  
“You swallow them. From what Raven was able to tell me, it links directly to the stem brain. It controls your emotions, your pain…, your memories,” Abby said, bringing Lexa back.  
  
“They’re brainwashed,” Kane said.  
  
“In a way, yes,” Abby said.   
  
Lexa barely felt Clarke coming closer to her. Her mind took her back to her Ascension ceremony. She recalled looking, intrigued, afraid and exhausted but proud, at a darker version of the chip she was now holding just moments before taking the last test to become Commander, the Recitation of the Lineage. Titus cutting the back of her neck and then speaking in a language she did not understand while holding the Flame above her neck. The initial flash of pain when the Flame accepted her. And the immediate serenity that permeated her mind and body signaling a new commander about to ascend.  
  
“So those who took the chip are under the control of this ALIE? How do we know if we have locked up everyone who has taken them?”   
  
“We don’t.”   
  
“But we can find out who came in and out of that store room, right?” Clarke said. “That could give us an idea of who took them.”  
  
Lexa’s fist closed around the chip. She tried to keep her command mask but her usual control on her emotions was slipping away fast. She could not let the others see her like this. Overwhelmed. Weak. She had to regain control. She swallowed the lump in her throat and squared her jaw. She would have time later. When she was alone. Not now. Not now.  
  
“I will tell security to watch the camera logs of that hallway and identify them,” Kane said.  
  
The corners of the Flame dug into the skin of her palm. She tried to focus her attention back to the conversation and noticed Clarke was stealing glances at her with a worried expression in her eyes.  
  
“We need Raven back,” Clarke said. “She is the only one we know of who has resisted this ALIE and came up with the idea to stop her.”  
  
“Clarke, I’m not sure—” Abby said.  
  
“Mom, she’s the one who holds all the answers. She knows ALIE. She’s the one who can tell us how to beat it. We only need for one wristband to work to free her. Once she’s back—”  
  
“What if it doesn’t work?” Sinclair said.  
  
“Then we’ll come up with something else.” Clarke looked at him.  “We don’t give up.”  
  
“I agree,” Marcus said. “If it has already managed to take thirty of our people without almost anyone noticing…” He picked up a key holding it in his hand. “We have to stop it.”  
  
Lexa was trying to focus her attention but her eyes kept wandering to the table. Her mind counting the Flames scattered on it, noticing the bag that contained more. Her mind was trying to reject the truth that lied before her. If the first commander had been a Skaikru woman then… was her entire world based on a lie?  
  
Lexa looked around her. To them, it was only an object. Nothing more. To her, that object symbolized her religion, her culture, her way of life. Her values. She had striven to always follow the principles and values of the first commander. She had sacrificed her life to serve her people.   
  
“ _Em laik spich_ ,” she whispered in disbelief. “ _Em laik ogeda spich_.”   
  
“Sinclair,” she heard Kane say, “get on the wristbands now. As soon as you have one, we’ll try to bring Raven back. Then we’ll figure out what to do with the rest.”  
  
Lexa felt the room closing in on her. It had been ages since she had felt this way. Not since Costia’s death. Her world was crumbling down around her and she was unable to do anything about it. She felt powerless. And trapped. Her eyes went to the chips again. Her vision blurred. They could not see her like this. She had to be strong.   
  
She was losing control. She had to get away.  
  
“Excuse me,” Lexa heard herself say. Her feet rapidly took her to the door. She barely heard Clarke calling after her. Lexa ignored her.   
  
There was only one thought in her mind. She needed to breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translations:
> 
> Bushhada -- Coward  
> Gonalida -- General  
> Ste fir raun, ste yuj, oso kik raun ogeda -- Be fearless, be strong, we live as one  
> Presh memon-de -- The holy symbol  
> Em laik spich. Em laik ogeda spich. -- It's a lie. It's all a lie.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here you have another chapter. Took me a bit to sort it out. Many storylines to weave together and do it right. Hope you like this one.
> 
> Again, tell me what you think. Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for taking this journey with me!
> 
> P.S. And a huge thank you to @yesternightscribe who keeps putting up with my plotholes, typos, mistakes galore and my stubborness. If my writing the last couple of chapters has improved is thanks to my friend.
> 
> I am learning.

Pike heard the quiet murmurs of his people not far from him but he kept his eyes closed. He sat on the bench further into their cell with his back against the wall. Then he heard footsteps approaching.  
  
“Is it done?” he asked without opening his eyes.  
  
Hannah sat down next to him and leaned back, resting her head against the wall like Pike.   
  
“Yes. The message will get through.”  
  
“Good,” he said glancing at the other three people who sat on the bench closer to the door. His closest men had been jailed as well.   
  
They remained silent for a moment.  
  
“Well, I have to give it to Kane,” he whispered. “Staging a coup. I didn’t think he had it in him anymore. That he’d gone soft.”   
  
“This wouldn’t have happened without Bellamy.”  
  
“We don’t know that,” he said with a sidelong glance. “But trusting him is a mistake I’m not making again.”  
  
“What do we do now?”  
  
Pike let out a sigh. “Now, we wait.” He looked at her. She appeared to be strong but a somewhat despondent expression lurked in her eyes. She would bounce back, much like she did when Monty’s father died. “How are you holding up?” he asked Hannah.  
  
The woman half-turned to look at him. “I’ll be okay.”  
  
Pike offered her a sympathetic smile and patted her on her shoulder. “Monty is smart. He’ll come back to you. You’re the only family he has left.”  
  
“I don’t know. After today, I am not sure anymore. He’s changed.”  
  
“Life’s harsh. This earth has changed us all,” he said glancing around him. “No one gives us anything. Remember, Hannah, what little we have achieved we’ve earned with our pain, our blood and our lives. That’s what surviving is all about.” He squeezed her hand in support, comforting her. “But we will pull through. As we’ve always done.”  
  
Hannah nodded and mustered a half smile. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
They remained still for a few moments. Then, Pike’s attention strayed to the adjacent cell. The other prisoner hadn’t said a word yet. He still couldn’t understand what the man had done to be imprisoned.  
  
“Has he said anything to you?” he whispered, gesturing with his head towards Jaha.  
  
Hannah sneaked a peek and then shook her head. “Nothing. Guards don’t know why he’s here.”   
  
Pike’s gaze went back to Jaha.   
  
The former chancellor was the epitome of serenity, calmly sitting on his bench. He didn’t appear flustered or upset in the slightest. What was the former chancellor doing in prison? Had Kane decided to get rid of all possible adversaries? Jaha, somehow sensing he was being watched, returned his stare and held it. He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the center of the room.   
  
Pike followed his movements with a barely concealed puzzled expression. Jaha stood for a second in the middle of the cell and then he sat down, cross-legged, on the floor, facing Pike’s cell. Then he closed his eyes.  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Octavia and Nyko reached the door but neither made any move to cross the threshold.  
  
“This is… was his room,” she said, hesitating at the entrance. The door was ajar but she couldn’t see the interior. The room was in complete darkness.  
  
“ _Okteivia_ , are you sure?”  
  
She flicked a nervous glance towards Nyko and answered with a anxious nod. She looked again at Lincoln’s room and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat that grew with each passing second. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the door open and turned on the lights.   
  
The fluorescent illumination bathed the room in a cold soft glow. Octavia stood frozen at the threshold. Gritting her teeth, she took in the room. Nothing had changed. It was as if time had decided to stand still.  
  
The bed was to the left, half-made, a rumpled t-shirt lied at its feet. On the desk, at the far end of the room, the bag Lincoln used to carry awaited him. Next to it, a flowerplot with her favorite flower had started to wilt. A chair on the left side of the room was partially covered with a few pieces of clothing. The room was in a sort of lived-in disarray, as if he had just stepped out and were going to return at any moment.  
  
But he was not coming back.  
  
She stepped inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a pair of boots underneath the bed. The t-shirt on the bed was a gift she had given him not long ago.  
  
Her eyes prickled as she fought back tears. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly trying to steel herself.   
  
And then a black piece of clothing drew her attention.  
  
His jacket. Hanging off a peg.  
  
Her heart clenched in pain, twisting inside her chest, thumping so loud in her ears she could barely hear. The pain seared so badly it almost took her breath away. Tears started to burn her eyes, blurring her vision.  
  
She gave a few tentative steps.   
  
Tears began to roll down her cheeks and, this time, she didn’t bother to fight them back.  
  
Her right hand closed around the jacket, feeling the cool pliant skin to her touch. She took it to her face and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and began to cry in earnest. He was there. With her. In that jacket. His scent triggered a surge of images, of memories: the tone of his voice, that mischievious glint in his eyes, his touches,  him whispering in her ear, quiet laughter, his face smiling at her, his lips, his hands holding her face, caressing her, his mouth saying he loved her.  
  
But he was not coming back.  
  
She snapped her eyes open. Her sobs grew louder, racking her body. She buried her face in his jacket, hiding from the world and the agony. She was broken. Broken in so many pieces she didn’t know if she was going to be able to find them all. She then realized she didn’t care. She couldn’t care less. Not anymore.  
  
He was not coming back.  
  
She fell to her knees. Her heart was not willing to accept the truth. It just hurt too much. She was completely lost and empty. The pain excruciating, blinding and overpowering, tearing her heart and soul apart. Breaking her.  
  
She barely heard the soft footsteps approaching her from behind.   
  
“He was a good man,” Nyko said in a low forlorn voice.  
  
Octavia sniffed loudly and tried to bring her ragged breathing back under control. She raised her head, tears falling freely, and craned her neck to look at Nyko. The huge man looked at her with an expression of deep sorrow and sadness. Octavia realized Lincoln’s loss affected other people as well.   
  
“He was a good friend,” he said looking at her.   
  
She got up and carefully left the jacket on the table. Her hand caressed the fabric in a loving gesture. She turned around.   
  
Nyko was looking at the room. “He didn’t deserve it. He deserved a warrior’s death. A Grounder’s funeral so he could be mourned.”  
  
Octavia shot him a look. “We mourn the dead when war is over.”  
  
Nyko focused his attention back to her.  
  
“ _Okteivia_ … we don’t even know where his body—”  
  
Octavia’s head snapped at hearing that. She made her way towards the door and when she reached Nyko she uttered one word. “Pike.”  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Jaha inhaled deeply, air filling his lungs, and he let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes he was back home.  
  
The area was deserted at the moment which suited him just fine for the time being. He needed some peace and quiet after the unexpected interruption at medical. ALIE’s warning had come at the right moment. Time would come when more forceful measures were really needed. Meanwhile, he would have to bide his time.  
  
He pushed those thoughts aside and decided to enjoy the view.   
  
He was still in awe of the beauty that surrounded him. It was a true haven far far away from all the pain and hardships they had had to endure. It was perfect.  
  
He was standing near a bench by the waterfront. The promenade stretched for more than a hundred yards in each direction offering a clear view of the city across the bay. The train rails stood to his right, high above his head. Of course, no trains ran on the tracks but they soon would. He kept looking up to a clear magnificent sky.   
  
Right in front of him, the water flowed slowly as if it didn’t have a care in the world. The sloshing sounds on the riverbank were soothing unlike his terrifying experience crossing that sea in his search for the City of Light. He remembered ALIE telling him the river would burst with life once everyone had entered the City. And the same would happen with the surroundings and the sky. Birds and animals would populate their world. And everything would come to be. He had been chosen. He inhaled deeply once more and let it out slowly, satisfied. Yes, he’d be responsible for leading his people to this place.  
  
He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He angled his body slightly towards the sound.  
  
ALIE joined him.  
  
“It is beautiful,” he said turning back to look at the landscape before them. “So peaceful.”   
  
ALIE followed his gaze but she merely observed the scenery with a detached expression. “Yes, it is.”   
  
“They haven’t found you—”  
  
“No. My case is safe and they haven’t found the key maker. What happened was an unfortunate occurrence that will have little impact.”  
  
Jaha turned to look at her. “And Raven?”  
  
“They won’t be able to keep her from me for long. I am already working to release you. Arkadia will fall. You have to be ready, Thelonious. Your people will need your guidance.”  
  
“I will be. Once my people join you, what then?”  
  
ALIE looked at the city before her. She turned to him and tilted her head slightly to one side. “He is watching you.”  
  


  
  
Pike had been watching him for the last ten minutes. The man had remained in the same position without moving a muscle.   
  
He couldn’t figure him out. The man had been sitting on the floor, crossed-legged, eyes closed as if he were meditating. His calm demeanor was unnerving. Jaha’s airs of messiah just rubbed him off the wrong way. Still, Pike couldn’t fathom why Kane would have locked him up. The voice of reason back in the Ark in jail.  
  
Jaha suddenly opened his eyes and fixed him a stare. Unflinching.  
  
Pike managed to hide his surprise and held his own. Two could play at this game.  
  
Jaha hinted a smile and slowly got up. If his legs had gone numb by sitting on the floor for too long, he didn’t show. He just stood in the center of his cell, looking at Pike with an expression of self importance. Pike recognized that aura of command that Jaha always had around him back in the Ark. But why lock him up in prison? What did Kane fear so much?  
  
Pike got up from his bench and approached the cells division.  
  
“You in trouble, Thelonious?” Pike asked.   
  
“There is no trouble,” he said, dismissing the implication with a wave of his hand. “They will come to agree with me,” he added with a patronizing smile, stepping closer to the division.   
  
“Still with this idea of yours?” Pike said. “We’re on the brink of a war with the Grounders and you’re still at it?”   
  
Jaha did not appear to be upset in the slightest. He just stood still as if he were waiting for a child to stop ranting.  
  
“Kane is going to fall again for another trick from the Grounders while we’re heading to war and you’re chasing an old wives’ tale.”  
  
“It is not a tale, Charles,” Jaha said. “I’ve seen it. I have been there.”  
  
“You’ve been there.” He shifted his weight, crossing his arms. “Okay, what makes this place so unique?”   
  
“Everything you may want,” he said slightly opening up his arms. “Or need.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“What if I could promise you that you would never lose any of your people again?” he said getting closer still to the division. “What if I could promise you that you would never have to hunt for food, or look for shelter, or suffer any illnesses?” One final step. “Or death.”  
  
“That you’ve lost it.” Pike watched Jaha intently. He spoke with the conviction of a visionary… or a madman.  
  
“I definitely have not.” Jaha glanced over at the other people in Pike’s cell and lowered his voice. “You are a leader, Charles. People trust you. You can be the one who leads them to the City of Light.”  
  
“What about the Grounders?”  
  
“They will not be a problem.”   
  
Pike glanced back at his people. Three of his men were immersed in a hushed conversation on their bench. Hannah sat on his bench. Their eyes locked for a second. Her gaze flicked from Pike to Jaha and back. She was listening.  
  
“You can lead them to a better life. Isn’t that what you want? For them, for you, not just to survive but to actually live. That’s why you were so hard training our kids up in the Ark. So not only they could survive but live on.”  
  
Pike turned to look at Jaha. “I was hard because you only gave me two weeks to train a group of kids who didn’t know they were being sent down,” he said in a hushed angry voice, stepping to the division.  
  
“I did what was necessary. We couldn’t tell anyone.”  
  
“But you ended up telling. You forced me to teach survival skills to a group of teenagers who believed it was a sort of punishment. Did you actually think they would pay attention? That I could make them listen?”  
  
“But you did well. Most of them did survive.”  
  
“Wells didn’t.”  
  
He watched Jaha, waiting for the retort. But he looked at him, emotionless. There was no sign of recognition on his face, no sign of pain, of grief. Nothing. Wells was just a name. Then, Jaha blinked once and offered him a understanding smile.  
  
“There was nothing you could’ve done, Charles. It is okay.”  
  
Pike kept a poker face. Jaha would have ripped a hole in him for overstepping yet he hadn't react. At all.   
  
“Thanks,” he said after a moment with a slight dip of his head.   
  
“You care about our people as much as I do,” Jaha said in a low voice. “You see what needs to be done and you don’t hesitate. You do whatever it takes to keep our people safe. The City of Light can provide everything we would ever want or need, Charles. Our fight would be over. We would live in peace.”  
  
Pike eyed Jaha with mistrust. But the offer was really tempting. An end to all the violence, the pain, the hurt. What he wouldn’t have given to be able to save his people when they were defending themselves against those Grounders. A chance not only to survive but to thrive. “How does it work?”  
  
Jaha reached into a hidden pocket and produced a key. “Only those who take a key can enter the City of Light.”  
  
Pike took the chip and got a close look at it. “A key,” he said turning it in his hand.   
  
“It will take away all the pain and will allow you to enter the City.”  
  
Pike looked up to meet Jaha’s gaze. The guy truly believed what he was saying. But Charles couldn’t help but comment. “Look, no one offers you a sort of paradise for nothing in return. It’s the oldest trick in the book to scam someone.”  
  
“There is no scam, Charles,” Jaha said with a firm voice. “The key takes away all the pain, everything that ever hurt you.”  
  
Pike weighed the key in his hand. He closed his fist around the key. “Take away the pain and you forget what you’re fighting for,” he said returning the key to Jaha. “It’s better to fight for something than to live for nothing.”  
  
“You call having everything you need ‘living for nothing’?  
  
“If it means forgetting what made you stronger, yes,” he said with a glint of pride in his eyes. “I don’t believe in fairy tales, Jaha. And neither should you,” he said opening his hand for Jaha to take the key back.  
  
“But that’s where you are wrong, Charles. It is not a fairy tale. It is real,” Jaha said, closing Pike’s hand over the key. “Keep it. For when you’re ready. I have more.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke squinted her eyes when she burst through the door out into the camp. She scanned her surroundings with a worried and nervous expression.   
  
“Damn it, Lexa.”  
  
Off to one side, she saw Argus in the shed, grooming one of their horses. She strode over to him.  
  
“Where is Lexa?”  
  
Argus glanced at her and continued grooming the animal. “She went out.”  
  
Clarke whipped her head towards the main gate.   
  
“She went alone?”  
  
Argus didn’t say anything.  
  
Clarke pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. She walked up to the horse next to Argus and started to check the stirrups.  
  
Argus glanced at her, noticing the hesitant and nervous moves from an unexperienced rider.   
  
“Why didn’t you go with her?”  
  
“My orders are to keep you safe, _Wanheda_.”  
  
“Saf—. These are my people. I am safe here,” her voice rose in volume. “There are warriors out there with a kill order and Lexa is out there when—” She stopped short. She realized she didn’t know just how much Argus knew about Lexa’s situation.  
  
“—she is no longer the commander?”  
  
Clarke nodded slightly.  
  
“She’s safe. I sent someone to keep an eye on her.”   
  
Clarke waited for a moment longer. “That’s it?” She stepped closer to him. “I thought you were a warrior. Someone Titus trusted to protect her.”  
  
Argus stopped grooming the horse. His back was stiff. His expression stormy. He turned to face her fully. “Titus didn’t order us to help you escape Polis or protect you. We volunteered. We knew the moment we helped the Commander we would become _natrona_. It is not a word we take lightly, _Wanheda_.”  
  
Clarke realized her misstep. Her expression softened. “I—I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”  
  
The Grounder slightly tipped his head. “I am _Fleimgona_ ,” he said with pride. “We will never accept _Ontari kom Azgeda_ as a commander.”  
  
“I thought that once a new commander ascends—”  
  
“That we follow blindly? _Jusheda_ won our loyalty. The only commander to ever unite all twelve clans and bring peace to our lands. She won our support.”  
  
“You talk as if you could approve or disapprove of a commander…”  
  
“Wouldn’t be the first time we do that.”  
  
Clarke froze. “Titus.” Argus didn’t say anything, keeping a neutral expression. But Clarke didn’t need his answer. If the scouts did indeed follow Lexa out of loyalty to her leadership maybe, just maybe, Ontari would have a difficult time maintaining power and even a harder time gaining followers. Lexa could still regain power.  
  
She took her horse out of the shed and mounted. “If you’re really my bodyguard, then you better keep up because I’m going to find her.”  
  
She spurred her horse towards the gate. Argus had to hide a smirk. “ _Sha, Wanheda_ ,” he murmured hastily preparing his horse to follow her.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translations:
> 
> Fleimgona -- Warrior of the Flame  
> Jusheda-- Commander of the Blood


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for your patience. Here's the new chapter. The next one is halfway through and I expect to be able to post it soon.
> 
> Again, comments are always welcome. Enjoy!

Kane punched in the access code on the panel and the door hissed softly releasing the locking mechanism. He entered the chancellor’s office and rushed to the cupboard where the key maker was stored.  
  
Abby stopped in the threshold and turned to a guard outside. “No one comes in,” she ordered closing the door behind her. She walked up to the desk.  
  
Kane knelt down and opened the board, looking in the drawer. His brow furrowed in worry.  
  
“It was on the first drawer, right?” he asked her, checking He checked another drawer. He got more nervous.  
  
“Yes. I don’t believe Pike paid attention to it.”  
  
Kane searched a third drawer. At first his movements were determined but they grew more urgent.  
  
“It’s not here,” he said, frustrated, rising to his feet. He looked around the somewhat tidy office. Nothing stood out of the ordinary.  
  
“Pike doesn’t know about ALIE. I never told him and I doubt Jaha did. Someone must’ve broken in.” Her face fell. “Oh god.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Raven told me she and Jasper cracked the code to the office. Raven realized what was going on and resisted ALIE. They left they key maker here. They never told anyone but me.” Kane looked at her with an expectant expression. Abby stepped forward. “Whatever Raven saw or heard, this ALIE knew.” Abby waited for the information to sink in.  
  
“So she sent someone else to get the key maker.” He flicked his gaze towards the closed door and then back to Abby. “They are making more keys.”  
  
“We have to isolate Raven.”  
  
“Yes.  
  
“Is it still safe to keep them here?” Abby said rounding the desk and putting the pouch with the keys on it.  
  
“I think this is the safest place,” he said grabbing the bag and, opening a drawer in his desk, he put it inside. “Only you, Clarke and I will know the access code. We need Raven to tell us how these work and how we can counteract them.” He closed the drawer and rose to his feet, turning towards Abby.  
  
“I fear for Raven. I don’t know if I can…” She was rubbing her eyes. “I’m… I’m so so tired.” She was frazzled and worried sick. Her temple and eye were bothering her. She hadn’t eaten yet since the day before and her stomach hurt. She felt a pair of arms surrounding her, enclosing her in a cocoon. A hand caressed her hair gently, almost cradling her. She embraced Kane humming contentedly. Basking in that feeling and the warmth of his body.  
  
“God, I needed this,” she whispered with her good cheek resting on Kane’s shoulder. She felt Kane humming an assent and she couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“It feels good.”  
  
She pulled back a bit so she could take a good look at him. “I was worried sick,” she said kissing him softly on the lips. “I thought you would try to go to Polis, why did you come back so fast?”  
  
“The situation in Polis has changed,” he said taking a step back.  
  
“Changed?” Abby shook her head, puzzled. “Changed how?”  
  
“Lexa’s been deposed. She—”  
  
“What? When?”  
  
“—thinks a young Azgeda warrior is the new commander. If Lexa is right…”  
  
“It will be war,” Abby said. The idea slowly sinking in. She exhaled audibly. “So our alliance with the Grounders?”  
  
Kane shook his head. “There is no alliance. Lexa is meeting someone who she believes can help. But…”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But we have to prepare for the worst,” he said. “A full scale war. We need to solve this ALIE thing fast or there won’t be anyone left to fight.”  
  
Abby stayed silent for a moment. Her mind racing. The urgency she had sensed in the room to help Raven now took on a new more pressing meaning.  
  
“Maybe we can still use Mount Weather. Rebuilt part of it.”  
  
Kane sat perched on the edge of the desk and faced her. “Our best chance of survival is keeping our alliance with Lexa.”  
  
“What? You can’t be serious, Marcus,” she said with a sarcastic chuckle. “That woman cannot be trusted. She betrayed us.” She stepped away from Kane. The suggestion to ally again with Lexa was ludicrous at best.  
  
“Abby, Abby, listen to me,” he said raising his hands in pleading gesture. “We all have our reasons to behave the way we do. I am not excusing what she’s done. All I’m saying is that we didn’t have the whole picture.”  
  
Abby leaned against a wall in the office with her arms crossed and a furrowed brow. Kane tried again.  
  
“Think about it. Lexa sent an army to protect us after the Azgeda attacked us at Mount Weather. An army we slaughtered. She had grounds to wipe us out yet she just set up a blockade. She’s been protecting Clarke—”  
  
Abby snapped at hearing her daughter’s name. “If by protecting you mean holding her hostage in Polis—”  
  
“I think you should talk to your daughter,” he said.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
Kane got closer to Abby. “After everything that has happened, Clarke trusts Lexa,” he said in a calmer tone. “And I’ve learned to trust your daughter’s judgement.”  
  
Abby was about to protest but Kane raised his hand to forestall her.  
“Lexa is the only one who can put a stop to this war. She is the only one willing to help us. We need her as much as she needs us.”  
  
They remained silent for a moment. A sort of stand-off. Kane stared at Abby, not backing down. Abby held his stare for a few moments, her arms firmly crossed. But not for long.  
  
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, a bit reluctant. Her shoulders sagged in a mixture of relenting and exhaustion.  
  
Kane sighed. “Clarke was right, though. People are going to start asking questions,” he said turning towards the desk. “How do we explain we’re keeping people locked up in the store room without revealing ALIE and those keys?”  
  
Abby looked at him in the eye with a determined expression. “I know how.”  


 

* * *

 

 

The echo of approaching footsteps rouse Pike up. He glanced in Jaha’s direction. The man was sitting again in the middle in the room, his eyes closed. Go figure.  
  
The voices grew louder.  
  
“Hey, Spence,” a voice called out form deep in the corridor.  
  
Pike’s head snapped in its direction. Bellamy.  
  
Spence got up from his chair and turned towards the corridor to his right. His companion lazily grabbed his rifle and got up a few seconds later.  
  
Pike got up from the bench and slowly approached the door, looking to where Bellamy’s voice had come from.  
  
“Get ready to open the door. Jaha’s.”  
  
Bellamy emerged into Pike’s vision. Behind him, four guards carried a stretcher. Another guard came in last.  
  
Pike watched as Bellamy’s gaze flicked to him but averted his eyes quickly. Pike suppressed a smirk.  
  
Bellamy came to stand in front of Jaha’s cell and aimed his rifle to his chest. “Stand back, Jaha. All the way back.”  
  
Jaha looked at him for a moment, with barely a hint of a smile. He raised his arms slowly and stepped back until the back of his legs hit the bench at the far end of the cell.  
  
“Spence, open the door,” Bellamy said. “Claire, inside.”  
  
Pike noticed Hannah coming to stand beside him. His other men watched intently from their bench.  
  
Pike watched as Spence hurried over to open the door while the other guard, Claire, walked in, weapon raised, and stepped to one side to make room. She immediately aimed the gun at Jaha, finger on the trigger. Bellamy entered after her and did the same.  
  
“Bring him in,” Bellamy said.  
  
The four guards maneuvered the stretcher into the cell.  
  
“Jackson?” Hannah said shooting a perplexed look at Pike.  
  
The guards stopped next to a bunkbed and started to transfer him to the thin matress.  
  
Jackson was out cold. He was covered with a bed sheet. The guards uncovered him. The right trouser leg had been ripped open, exposing a bandaged thigh. The bloodstain on the fabric was visible. They carefully moved his body over to the bench, trying not to jostle him too much.  
  
“But… What happened to him?”  
  
Bellamy looked in Hannah’s direction but didn’t answer.  
  
“He should be in medical, Bellamy. Not here,” Pike said, gesturing towards Jackson and stepping closer to the cell bars.  
  
“I just follow orders,” he said keeping his gaze focused on Jaha and the guards.  
  
“Only when it suits you,” Hannah spat, with a dismissive look she turned around and went to her bench where she sat to watch them.  
  
Pike kept his gaze on Bellamy who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Two guards extracted the stretcher and got out of the cell. The other two covered Jackson with the bed sheet and made sure his head and upper body were slightly elevated. They left the cell. Claire followed them with her rifle raised.  
  
Bellamy started to step back. He looked at Jackson and half-turned towards Jaha. “Make sure to keep his head slightly elevated.”  
  
Jaha answered with a nod and sat on the bench.  
  
Bellamy left the cell. “Lock it,” he said to Spence as soon as he crossed the door. He kept an eye on Jaha as the guard closed the door.  
  
The guards left the same way they had come, carrying an empty stretcher. Bellamy and Claire followed.  
  
“Bellamy,” Pike called.  
  
Bellamy turned to look at him and whispered something to Claire. The woman flicked a glance between Pike and Bellamy and followed her companions.  
  
Bellamy turned around and walked up to Pike. The two guards that remained on watch took again their seats.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Pike waited until Bellamy was close to the cell bars. “I see you have already convinced Kane.”  
  
Bellamy schooled his features. “What do you want Pike?”  
  
“I want to know why,” Pike said fixing him with a stare.  
  
Bellamy averted his eyes for a moment before pulling himself back together and facing him.  
  
“I had to protect my sister. ”  
  
“Protect your sister? Is that how you call it?” he said leaning forward.  
  
Bellamy didn’t answer and fixed his look on the far wall behind Pike, to where Hannah observed them.  
  
“Look, I understand you want to help her. I do. But you can’t turn your back on your people. Those Grounders will wipe us out if we let them.”  
  
Bellamy froze. He remembered Lincoln, a Grounder, letting himself be injected with the red so he could get inside Mount Weather.  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe there are other ways.”  
  
Pike laughed. “So now you know of a better way to handle things with Grounders? Please, tell me. I wanna hear it.”  
  
Bellamy didn’t answer. Pike’s brow furrowed.  
  
“If you think for a second that Grounders are going to play nice just because Kane bends over backwards for them, you’re seriously deluded.” He gave a step forward, almost touching the bars. He leaned back when one of the guards eyed him warily. “They killed us one by one, without provocation… Even when we weren’t a threat to them. They didn’t care. You risked your life to save them. And still, they blew up the mountain with our people in it.” He leaned forward. “Gina lost her life in there, Bellamy. I thought you cared for her.”  
  
Bellamy reeled at the words. “I did care for her—”  
  
“Bullshit. You betrayed your people, Bellamy. Your protecting your sister is just the excuse. ”  
  
“I did not betray anyone. I protected my sister.”  
  
“Well, you had a funny way of showing it when you helped me with Lincoln. Instead of defending him, you stood by and did nothing to help him. You were there when we attacked their camp.”  
  
Bellamy closed his eyes. The tortured expression of his sister telling him Pike had executed Lincoln came to his mind. The wave of guilt hit him like a blow to the chest. He had failed his sister.  
  
“Pike!”  
  
The yell startled the guards who almost jumped from their seats. Bellamy whipped his head towards the voice.  
  
“O?”  
  
Bellamy watched Octavia striding down the corridor with Nyko right behind her. She approached the cell, shot a cursory glance at him and focused her attention on Pike. Her whole demeanor screamed rage. Bellamy noticed the two guards getting up from their seats, their expressions tense. Nyko towered over them.  
  
“Where is he?” she ground through her teeth.  
  
“Who?” Pike said confused.  
  
“Lincoln. Where is he?”  
  
Bellamy shot a look between Pike and his sister. Pike didn’t answer.  
  
“Where is he?” she repeated enunciating each word.  
  
Bellamy saw that Spence and his companion had come to stand near him. They both eyed the bulky Grounder and Octavia with mistrust. Nyko carried no weapons but his frame was intimidating enough. Bellamy looked at Pike who remained still and silent.  
  
“Pike,” he said as a warning. The man looked at him but said nothing.  
  
“Tell her, Charles,” Jaha’s voice reached them from the back of his cell.  
  
“Shut up, Jaha,” Bellamy said.  
  
Pike finally relented. “I know you’re grieving him but I don’t have to—”  
  
Octavia pulled a gun from the small of her back and aimed it between Pike’s eyes. The movement was so fast it caught everyone unguarded. Pike did not move an inch. The muzzle of the gun was a few inches away from his face.  
  
“Drop your gun now!” Spence yelled at Octavia, raising his weapon.  
  
His companion aimed at Nyko who took a step closer to them. “Don’t move! Stay where you are!” the guard ordered.  
  
“No!” Bellamy got in between the guards and his sister. “No. Don’t shoot! Fuck, O!” he said turning his head to look at his sister. The young woman did not even look his way. She was staring straight at Pike who didn’t flinch.  
  
Pike’s men had risen up from their bench and watched. Hannah joined them. She narrowed her eyes and look at Octavia.  
  
“You’re gonna kill an unarmed man?” she said.  
  
Octavia’s gaze flicked from Pike to Hannah. “Well, that’s what you did to Lincoln, wasn’t it?” Her attention went back to Pike. “You executed him. _Jus drein jus daun_.”  
  
“O, please, put your gun down,” Bellamy asked her. He turned to the guards. “It’s okay. No one is going to shoot,” he said looking intently at Spence. The guards did not lower their their weapons.  
  
He noticed Nyko standing close to Octavia. As a protector would. Bellamy hid a wince. That should have been his place.  
  
He understood he had to diffuse the situation before someone made a mistake. “O, please. Let’s calm down,” he said to her while reaching with his hands to lower the guards’ weapons. “Everyone.” After a moment of resistance, they both relented.  
  
Bellamy dipped his head for a second acknowledging their trust and turned towards his sister.  
  
“Where is he?” Octavia said releasing the safety on the gun.  
  
Pike remained silent for a moment. Bellamy stepped closer to them and stared at Pike. The man understood he couldn’t expect help from Bellamy.  
  
“We buried him,” he finally answered.  
  
“Where?” Octavia grunted.  
  
“About thirty feet off the south wall. The grave is marked,” he said.  
  
Octavia kept the gun trained on Pike, staring at him dead in the eye. A moment passed. Then another. She did not lower her gun. Bellamy watched her. Her hand gripped the gun firmly. The finger poised to pull the trigger. Pike stood still, almost defiant, returning her stare.  
  
“O,” Bellamy said in a soft voice. He saw Octavia grit her teeth. “O, please. Don’t,” he said inching closer to his sister. “That’s not the answer.”  
  
“How the hell do you know?” she spat. She flicked a glance at him. “Lincoln was your friend. He risked his life for you,” she said, hiding the tremor in her voice. Her body suddenly deflated as if all her strength had abandoned her. She turned to him. Her eyes were dark, clouded, in agony. “You may not have pulled the trigger but you are as guilty as he is,” she said turning to look at Pike with a sneer.  
  
She tucked the gun in the small of her back. “Hoz op,” she said to Nyko. They both left where they had come from.  
  
“O,” Bellamy called after her. “Octavia.”  
  
Bellamy’s shoulders sagged. The guards returned to their seats leaving Bellamy with Pike.  
  
He cast a glance at Pike who was watching him.  
  
“She won’t listen to you, Bellamy,” Pike said returning to the bench. “What is done is done.”  
  
Bellamy watched Pike taking a seat and then he cast a glance to the corridor where Octavia had disappeared into.  


 

* * *

 

  
  
The plate was overflowed. Two cups sat in front of the plate. A napkin and silverware at the sides. Steam still rose from the food on the plate.  
  
Murphy didn’t bother with the napkin. He just took the silverware and dug in the pile of food. Amid bites he eyed his surroundings.  
  
Some people were already leaving to do their chores, others were hanging out talking and laughing. But a group caught his attention. They were talking, all right, but their gestures were angry, heated. Their voices were still under control.  
  
He smirked.  
  
It sucked. He had to find a way to get out of there. Go back to the woods and try to find Emori.  
  
He almost jumped, startled, when someone came to stand next to him. He coughed, trying not to choke on his food.  
  
Monty stood next to his table with a lost expression on his face. “May I?” he asked, gesturing with his tray at the table.  
  
Murphy nodded and Monty sat across the table. They looked at each other for a moment but neither made an attempt to talk. Monty did not ask about Murphy’s bruised face and Murphy did not ask about Monty’s mother. Murphy observed the young man out of the corner of his eye. After only a few bites, Monty started to push the food around his plate.  
  
A few moments passed. Neither of them made any effort to start a conversation, content to just eat their breakfast in peace.  
  
After another minute, Murphy noticed Monty was pushing his food around once more. He had only had a couple of bites. Murphy chastised himself — he shouldn’t care if others ate or not. But still… “Not hungry?”  
  
Monty rose his head startled at the question. “Not really,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
Murphy stared at him for a second and then went back to his plate. He had never gotten along with Monty anyway.  
  
The clank of a tray setting right next to him almost made him jump out of his skin.  
  
Jasper sat down next to him. And he started to devour his breakfast.  
  
“It’s not a competition, you know?” Murphy pointed out.  
  
Jasper nodded while swallowing his food. “I know. I’m hungry,” he said. He looked over at Monty. “I heard about your mom. I’m sorry.”  
  
Monty looked at his former best friend and lowered his head. “Yeah, thanks,” he said in a low voice.  
  
“Yeah, that had to suck,” Murphy agreed. “You’re better off without her.”  
  
Monty and Jasper stared at him. Monty quickly averted his eyes focusing on the food on his tray.  
  
“Jeez, Murphy. So sensitive of you,” Jasper said.  
  
“Hey… I think Monty and I share more than you think. Look at my parents. My father stole medicine to help me and my mother blamed me for his death,” he said. He looked at Monty, “How cool is that for a mother? Like I said, parents are overrated.”  
  
Murphy noticed the group’s discussion was growing more heated. He could now distinguish some voices.  
  
Monty looked at him agape. “Can we just change the subject?” he managed to utter.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Murphy said distracted, taking another bite.  
  
The voices in the back rose steadily. One woman seemed to be calling the shots in the group. Her determined expression and her gestures seem to inflame the people around her who began gesticulating. The crowd seemed to be getting more riled up by the minute.  
  
“You know who’s having a heart attack over there?” Murphy asked.  
  
Monty and Jasper took a look at the group.  
  
“Don’t remember her name,” Monty said, “but she’s from Farm Station.”  
  
“She sure seems pissed,” Jasper said.  
  
The voices grew more heated and louder. People stopped eating their meals as their attention was drawn to the revolt that was forming right there.  
  
“No. I want answers,” the woman demanded, yanking her arm free from a man who was trying to hold her still. She climbed on top of a table and looked at the people in the cafeteria looking back at her. “I won’t shut up! I demand Chancellor Kane to release my boyfriend. They’ve been holding him and a group of people in a room for no reason. They don’t allow us to see them!” She paused looking around her. Her words had gotten the attention she was seeking. “Kane’s behaving like the dictator he is! He just deposed Pike and now he’s started jailing those who don’t agree with him.”  
  
“Pike killed those Grounders! What did you expect from Kane?” A voice shouted from across the room. “To give him a medal?”  
  
People started crossing accusations.  
  
“It was Pike’s fault!” Another voice from another table answered.  
  
“Pike won the election for chancellor. Kane took it away!”  
  
The Delinquents exchanged a look.  
  
“I see things haven’t changed that much since I left,” Murphy quipped with a shrug, going back to his food.  
  
The voices grew angrier. More voices joined the one demanding an explanation from Kane.  
  
Jasper and Monty looked at each other with increasing alarm.  
  
A few moments later, a couple of guards arrived at the cafeteria but did not intervene. One of the guards talked into her radio.  
  
“What she’s saying about people being held? Is it true?” Monty asked turning to look at Jasper and Murphy.  
  
Murphy raised his hands in a don’t-look-at-me gesture. “Don’t look at me. Just got here.”  
  
Monty shifted his gaze to Jasper. The young man did not answer. His attentions was drawn to the cafeteria's entrance.  
  
Murphy turned to look in that direction.  
  
More guards had arrived. Reinforcements.  


 

* * *

  
  
  
The Azgeda guards posted outside opened the doors for him as Titus strode into the throne room. He could barely conceal the ire that nearly consummed him. What he saw once inside made his blood boil even hotter.  
  
Ontari sat on the throne but without the dignity and grandeur of _Lexa kom Trikru_. ‘The throne is too big for her,’ Titus thought. Seated at each side of the hall, the ambassadors turned their heads to look at him.  
  
“ _Fleimkepa_ , glad you could finally join us,” she said with aplomb. She didn’t make any gesture to invite Titus to occupy his usual place at the right side of the commander’s throne. The amusement in her eyes told Titus she was enjoying this power play.  
  
His eyes took in the scene before him. Some ambassadors averted their eyes while others looked at him with either a sense of relief or defiance. On the throne stand, two former Queen Nia’s advisors stood on either side of Ontari. The new guard.  Titus’ gaze zeroed in on the piece of clothing that had infuriated him. The commander’s sash that Ontari wore. Lexa’s sash.  
  
“I would have come sooner had I known there was a meeting,” he said formally wrenching his gaze from the garment and looking at Ontari’s face. He managed to school his features and adopt his usual composure as he approached Ontari.  
  
“I did not deem your presence necessary, Titus.”  
  
Titus stopped right in front of Ontari, without climbing the two steps to the stand. It was as if he were seeking audience with the new commander. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roan standing off to the side. He wasn’t among the ambassadors and neither at Ontari’s side. Although his posture didn’t reveal anything Titus was convinced the Azgeda king would not be pleased at all. Still the man gave him a subtle nod.  
  
“May I remind _Ontari kom Azgeda_ that the sash can only be worn once the Flame has chosen the new commander, after the Recitation of the Lineage?” He said gesturing with his head towards the garment.  
  
A low murmur emerged in the throne room among the ambassadors. Roan observed the scene with a detached expression on his face.  
  
Ontari’s eyes took on a dangerous glint. “These are new times, _Fleimkepa_ ,” she said with an icy tone. “Times that require of new ways. I won’t follow the steps of the natrona Lexa kom Trikru.”  
  
Titus bit his tongue. Lexa may have made mistakes and she was many things. But natrona was definitely not one of them.  
  
“As Fleimkepa it is my duty to preserve the traditions set forth by our first Commander. All of the previous hedas have not only abided to the traditions but enforced them.”  
  
“I will make new ways and traditions now, Titus. The Recitation is only a formality.”  
  
“The Recitation of the Lineage has to be fulfilled. Only then the Spirit of the Commanders will choose the new heda.”  
  
“The spirit has no choice but to pick me, Titus. I already defeated the _Natblidas_. There’s no one left. I am the chosen one.”  
  
A shocked hum rose among the ambassadors. No one had ever talked so dismissively about the Spirit of the Commanders, much less someone poised to become Heda.  
  
“I agree with the _Fleimkepa_ and I respectfully ask the new commander to reconsider,” a male voice rose among the murmurs.  
  
Ontari snapped her head in the direction of the voice. Titus followed her gaze but he had recognized who had spoken.  
  
The Trikru ambassador had risen from his seat. The man stood with a determined look on his face. “All of our former commanders have complied with the traditions. Not abiding to them is what brought on Lexa’s fall,” the man pointed out. “The Spirit rejected her.”  
  
A slow murmur of assents rose in the room. Some ambassadors tipped their heads to the Trikru man in agreement while others frowned at the insolence of contradicting the new heda.  
  
Ontari’s eyes flashed in annoyance but quickly suppressed that look. She tilted her chin up, leaning back on the throne and exhaled softly. A second later, she rose on her feet.  
  
“I appreciate your concern, Ambassador. But, please, let us talk in private for a moment,” she said amiably and gestured  with her arm towards the balcony behind the throne. “I am sure we can reach an agreement.”  
  
The Ambassador flicked a glance with Titus who remained impassive despite the sudden sense of dread. The Trikru walked up the steps to the throne stand and headed to the balcony. Ontari followed him.  
  
Titus eyed the guards posted at each side of the throne. A backward glance showed the rest of the ambassadors looking intently at the balcony. He turned his attention to the Ontari. The Trikru ambassador was about to turn around when Ontari kicked him on his back propelling him off the balcony. The man fell to his death screaming.  
  
Ontari turned around and stared at the ambassadors who looked at her with incredulous and intimidated expressions.  
  
Then she came back inside and sat on the throne, with a look of defiance on her face. Ontari’s gaze fell on Titus and she let a slight predatory smirk curve her lips. The man understood the message. She had killed the Trikru ambassador the same way Lexa killed the Azgeda one only a few days earlier. Lexa’s legacy was going to be completely eradicated. Ontari would make sure of that.  
  
“Does anyone else care to question my decision?” The ambassadors remained silent in their seats.  
  
The silence stretched. No one dared to say anything. Titus turned to watch the ambassadors. He knew some of them already had plans to flee Polis as soon as the Recitation was over. The scene they had just witnessed would only fortify their decision to leave as soon as possible. For other ambassadors, this was just an eye opener. Either you supported the new heda or you would meet your fate at the bottom of the Commander’s tower.  
  
“ _Ai laik Heda kom Az,_ ” she stated with conviction. “Anyone who defies me will meet with their death.”  
  
Titus met Roan’s gaze. The man was looking at Ontari with an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
Ontari cleared her throat.  
  
Titus looked at her.  
  
“I am placing a kill order on the _natrona_ _Lexa kom Trikru_ and Clarke of the Sky People, known as _Wanheda_ ,” she announced projecting her voice into the room. “Anyone who brings their bodies to me will be rewarded.”  
  
A low murmur rose again but one look from Ontari in the ambassadors’ directions squashed it.  
  
“ _Fleimkepa_ ,” she said. Titus stiffened his posture, raising his chin with pride. “The Recitation will take place tonight,” she announced. “I will respect our traditions. For now,” she said looking at him with a glint in her eyes. “Now leave us. We have much to discuss.”  
  
Titus gritted his teeth. Never had he been dismissed from a meeting with the Commander and all the ambassadors. He bowed ever so slightly to Ontari.  
  
As he turned and headed towards the door, he caught a final glance at Roan who observed him with interest. The guards opened the door for him. As he left the room, his mind was already plotting his next steps.  
  
One thing was clear though. His time was up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng:
> 
> (I will only translate new expressions or words)
> 
> Ai laik Heda kom Az -- I am the Commander of Ice.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who keeps coming back to this fic. When I set out to write "Blood must not have blood" I just wanted to read the story I would've loved to see on TV. All the possibilities that were left unexplored, the paths not taken.
> 
> So, thank you for sticking with me and for coming along in this journey. 
> 
> Hope you like the new chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigedasleng translations:  
> Wamplei kom Thauz Kodon -- Death by a Thousand Cuts  
> Maunon -- Mountain Men  
> Skaikru - Skypeople  
> natrona -- traitor  
> Fleimkidon -- Flamekit  
> Fleimgona -- Warriors of the Flame

Her graceful fingers fiddled about with the key, turning it over and over, without purpose. Lexa stared at the small object, with the commander’s emblem engraved on it, still trying to grasp everything she had learned in that meeting. The implications.  
  
The radio she had brought along laid by her side. The conversation with Indra had only proven her worst fears to be true. Ontari had ascended. Polis was falling. The Coalition was crumbling.  
  
War would soon follow.  
  
Luna was her best option. She hoped— she prayed Luna would show up. They hadn’t parted in the best of terms but she had kept her word. She had kept Luna hidden and safe. That had to account for something.  
  
She looked up into the sky, trying to pull herself together. The sun peeked through dark clouds. The air was crisp. Her breath formed small white puffs that did nothing to allay the turmoil inside. She inhaled and exhaled softly, trying to sooth her mind. But her agitation raged inside like a firestorm.  
  
Her mare perked her ears slightly. The animal stilled her body for a second before she resumed grazing with a soft huff. Lexa strained her senses. She knew Luna wouldn’t arrive until the next day and Senae would have announced her presence. She tensed.  
  
Footsteps approached from behind her. She closed her left fist around the key and used her body as a cover to grab her dagger. She waited a moment and then whirled around, arm raised, ready to throw her dagger.  
  
Clarke stopped dead on her tracks, eyes wide open, unblinking with a look of utter surprise as she stared back at Lexa.  
   
“It’s me. I—I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said hastily.  
  
Lexa lowered her dagger, returning it to its sheath, and smiled weakly. “It’s okay.” She sat down on the fallen tree, turning her back to Clarke.  
  
A few seconds passed.  
  
She heard Clarke approach and sit next to her. The radio laid between them. She didn’t look at her. She couldn’t. Her eyes kept being drawn to the damn radio. She clenched her left fist. The edged of the key dug slightly into her skin. She couldn’t talk. She didn’t know if she could make sense.  
  
Clarke remained silent giving her the time she needed. She took a moment to study her. Gone was the proud way Lexa always handled herself with. Her head hung low, her jaw clenched shut, her shoulders slumped. Lexa shifted slightly making her hair fall forward almost hiding her face. Clarke noticed some of Lexa’s braids had come undone. She felt a pang of fear. She had never seen her like this.  
  
Clarke inhaled deeply, trying to still her mind, and looked around them. It was a grey day. The sun hadn’t broken through the heavy clouds. It looked gloom, solitary. She couldn’t hear any animals. Argus had reassured her no one besides them and Lexa’s guard were nearby. The blockade line was still a distance away. They were alone. Clarke’s gaze fell to the radio lying between them. She looked up at Lexa.  
  
“Heard from Indra?”  
  
Lexa nodded without looking at her. “Ontari will ascend… as I feared.”  
  
Clarke exhaled audibly. “So, it means war.”  
  
Lexa dipped her head in assent. “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate. Her thoughts clashed against each other. Her mind hadn’t stopped whirling, examining all and every single possibility, option and consequence. She already felt the telltale signs of an impending headache.  
  
She opened her left hand and started to fiddle about with the key. She wasn’t ready to talk.  
  
Clarke tucked away some strands of hair that hid Lexa’s hair with tenderness and watched her. Their relationship was so new to both of them. She did not know just how much she could prod Lexa to open up to her. She knew just how reserved and in control she was. But the woman she had made love to was very different from the cunning leader and warrior she knew. And the person that now sat next to her was new. The slumped shoulders and the troubled, forlorn expression spoke volumes. She had never seen Lexa look so fragile. So lost. Defeated.  
  
She reached out.  
   
Lexa felt Clark’s hand on hers, stilling her movements. She watched both their hands. The warmth of Clarke’s skin was a stark contrast with the cold she felt inside. Clarke caressed her hand with her thumb. Lexa felt herself relax a bit. Her mind slowly calming down. She still found strangely familiar the effect Clarke had on her. She opened her hand and Clarke interlaced their fingers together, anchoring her, the key firmly trapped between their palms. She felt Clarke giving her a gentle squeeze, her thumb softly caressing her again in a soothing, comforting gesture.  
  
Lexa stared at their joined hands, reveling in the heat coming from Clarke’s hand, the smoothness of her skin. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Neither of them said anything. There was no need.  
  
“Is everything I was taught a lie?” Lexa asked after a few moments, opening her eyes. She raised her head and let out a sigh.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Lexa released her hand and held again the key on her palm. “This thing… this key. This is—was the commander’s spirit. It has been passed down from one heda to the next,” she inhaled deeply, trying to gather her thoughts and reign in her turmoil. “The Flame represents everything that we hold sacred,” she said turning her head to look at Clarke. “For your people it’s just a piece of technology.”  
  
Clarke remained silent.  
  
Lexa huffed impatiently, got up and paced. “Now everything I’ve been taught, everything that I have always upheld is based on a lie. The Flame I had in my neck is not the commander’s spirit. There is no such thing. I wasn’t chosen. I didn’t ascend. Titus just put something like this,” she said holding the key between her fingers, rage coloring her words, “in the back of my neck because it is how we always did things.”  
  
Clarke was at a loss. She did not know how she could console her.  
  
“Do you have any idea what I’ve put up with? The training? The wars? The Conclave…” Lexa’s voice wavered as she remembered what she did during the Conclave. The shock on the faces of the other initiates when she defeated them, one by one, their eyes dead, the black blood staining their clothes, pooling around their fallen bodies, leaving a blackish trail as their bodies were dragged out of the arena. She had grown up with them knowing what one day would happen. Still. The blood. At the end, people at the Conclave were calling her _Jusheda_. The name had become her identity. She looked at Clarke, tears brimming in her eyes. “Costia. She died for nothing. There never were any secrets,” Lexa’s voice cracked while she fought desperately to maintain control. “I thought the Flame had chosen me. To serve my people. That I had a duty to them.” She stopped for a second. She blinked rapidly trying to clear her vision. She breathed in deeply. “But it was all a lie,” she said with a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“It wasn’t,” Clarke said getting up and walking to her. “It wasn’t a lie.”  
  
“Clarke—”  
  
“The origin of the Flame is what it is,” she held Lexa’s hand, tring to instill some comfort in her, “but it doesn’t make your values any less valid. And it doesn’t make you any less of a leader or what you have achieved any less important.”  
  
Lexa pulled her hand away and stepped away from her a few yards, maintaining a physical distance. The chasm was even greater. “This changes everything,” she said.  
  
“I know.” Lexa shot her an inquiring look. “It means your people will have to find a new way to do things,” Clarke said giving a step closer to Lexa. “And they will need someone who can lead them.” Another step closer. “And it means you don’t owe them anything anymore.”  
  
Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Clarke. _I_ am responsible for this,” she said pointing at herself. “ _I_ brought this on my people. _I_ did not handle Titus. _I_ did nothing to prevent Ontari from rising to power. _I_ changed our ways and the Flame rejected me…”  
  
“The Flame did not reject you, Lexa. It’s a damn chip!” Lexa reeled at her words. Clarke raised her hands and took a step back, trying to reign in her temper. She needed Lexa to understand. She needed to fix this. She breathed in deeply, calming herself down and tried again. “You made a decision you believed in. A decision that you thought could bring peace for your people. That’s what a leader does, Lexa. You say you’re responsible for this. And yes, you are. You united all twelve clans, you forged an alliance to get your people back from the Mountain Men, you helped destroy Mount Weather, you have kept peace to the best of your ability. You have achieved things no other commander has ever done. And the chip, or the Flame, had nothing to do with it. And you know why?” Clarke stepped even closer to Lexa who stood rotted to the floor, listening intently. “Because if it were the chip making all these decisions you would have wiped us out a long time ago.”  
  
Lexa stared at Clarke. The Skygirl was right. Other commanders would have shown them no mercy. And Clarke wouldn’t have lived after killing Finn herself, robbing her people of the _Wamplei kom Thauz Kodon_. Another commander would’ve struck a deal with the _Maunon_ and traded the _Skaikru_ for her people at Mount Weather. They would’ve handed Clarke and her people over to the Mountain Men and be done with them. But she didn’t do it.  
  
Clarke got even closer to her. “The truth is, Lexa, you are the most capable warrior your people have. You have made tough decisions, always in their best interest, despite the price you had to pay,” Clarke said stepping closer to her. “If you want to blame someone, blame me. I came up with the idea so you would spare my people. You had every right to wipe us out and I managed to change your mind—”  
  
“You did not. I made that decision. I knew the consequences.”  
  
“Exactly. You made the decision. You chose peace. You. Not the chip, not Titus, not your people. You. You decided to put an end to a war before it started.”  
  
“And I'm responsible for the consequences,” Lexa snapped. “Clarke, I appreciate what you are trying to do but you can’t fix this.”  
  
“Look. I am not telling you what you should do. All I’m saying is that you have a choice,” she said hotly. “You don’t owe them anything anymore. You can help your people but you now have the freedom to choose the life you want for yourself—”  
  
“They’re my people and what I did had consequences for them! You don’t know our ways, Clarke.” Lexa moved away. “My people will not accept me. The same kill order I put on Lincoln will be put on me. Anyone who helps me will be punished. They won’t follow me. I am no longer _Heda_. I am _natrona_.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Clarke said with conviction.  
  
“What?” Lexa asked dumbfounded.  
  
“Argus told me. Titus did not order them to help us. They volunteered. All of them.”  
  
Lexa stared at her for a moment blinking slowly.  
  
“Your people are following you because of who you are, Lexa. Not because you had a piece of technology, or the Flame, in the back of your neck. They’ve risked their lives for you. Because they believe in you,” she said. And getting closer, “As I do.”  
  
Lexa swallowed hard. Her eyes burned. She made no attempt to talk. Her throat had constricted so hard she wasn’t sure she could make any sounds. She had to keep control but she couldn’t.  
  
‘ _You say my feelings make me weak but you’re weak from hiding from them. I can see right through you.’_  
  
“Leave,” Lexa’s voice cracked while trying to keep her composure. She turned her back on Clarke. “Go back, Clarke.”  
  
Lexa waited to hear Clarke walking away. A moment passed. Instead, she heard Clarke moving closer to her, nearly touching her body.  
  
“I know this is not easy for you. I know that whatever is between us is too new. But, please… Please, Lexa, trust me,” Clarke begged.  
  
Lexa closed her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists. The key dug into her palm. A reminder. Lexa fought to hold back her tears. After a few moments, she managed to regain some semblance of control. Enough to speak.  
  
“You can’t fix this Clarke,” Lexa managed to say. “What is done is done. Go back.”  
  
Clarke watched her with a saddened expression. She nodded her head once, turned around and walked up to the clearing’s edge. There she turned to look at Lexa one more time.  
  
The young woman kept her back to her, standing still, her back ramrod straight, her body tense.  
  
Clarke turned around and headed back to Argus.  
  
Back to Arkadia. Back to her people.  
  


* * *

  
  
Yells and chants echoed in the dark-lit corridor. People went about their business but some turned their heads in the direction of the commotion only to resume their way.  
  
Kane and Abby walked towards the cafeteria, escorted by a group of guards. People stood to the sides to let them pass.  
  
A lieutenant was waiting for them near the cafeteria’s entrance. When she saw them, she strode over to them with a stern expression on her face.  
  
“Chancellor, Doctor,” she greeted them with a shake of her head. “We have them contained. We haven’t intervened as you ordered, Chancellor.”  
  
Kane flicked a glance towards the cafeteria’s entrance. The yells were louder.  
  
“Set them free! Set them free!”  
  
Kane looked at the woman.  
  
“It started as a small group but it has grown to a small crowd. I have posted guards at all the doors,” she explained.  
  
“Have they made any claims?” Kane asked listening to the chants.  
  
The woman flicked her gaze from Kane to Abby. “It’s a group of Farm station people and some others. They want to know why we’re holding people in the store room.” Abby and Kane exchanged a glance. “And they want Pike. Free.”  
  
“Word has spread,” Abby commented shooting a worried look at Kane.  
  
“The last thing we need right now is a revolt inside our walls.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
A scuffle in the corridor caught Kane’s attention. More people were trying to access the cafeteria but the guards had cut the access. The guards were pushing people back.  
  
“Hey, Kane! Now you’re going to forbid us to have meals too!” A voice yelled. “Not enough locking innocent people up?”  
  
“Keep them back!” The lieutenant ordered her guards.  
  
The guards gave a few pushes but the protesters pushed back. One of the guards extended his security baton. Some protesters gave a few steps back as the guard raised his hand.  
  
Kane rushed over to him and held his hand. “Don’t. It won’t be necessary.” He kept his stare on the guard until the man nodded and retracted the baton.  
  
“Too much of a coward, Kane? You need your own army?” A voice asked with venom.  
  
Kane scanned the protesters, trying to identify who had spoken up. He recognized some of them from Farm Station. He returned his attention to the guard. “No need to make things any worse than they already are,” he said lowering his voice. “Don’t respond to them.”  
  
The man looked between the crowd and Kane and came back to his senses. “Yes, sir,” the man answered. Kane gave him an firm pat on the back and, with a backward glance at the protesters, headed back to Abby.  
  
“—and we already have guards inside, doctor.” The lieutenant looked at Kane as he rejoined them. “How do you want to handle this, Chancellor?”  
  
Kane took a moment to think. He looked from Abby to the door to the cafeteria and back. “Okay, lieutenant. You and your people will come with me. I want your people to wait outside for now. Keep close to the door. Do not intervene unless there is a real threat. Stay by the door just in case. Understood?” He looked intently at the woman. “We don’t want to give them a reason to escalate things.”  
  
The lieutenant nodded and made room for Kane and Abby, while giving orders to her men to take positions.  
  
Kane turned to the doctor. “Ready?” Abby nodded. Her face had that determined expression he had grown to love. Kane gave her a quick tense smile and made his way into the cafeteria. Abby following him close behind.  
  
He walked in, back straight, chin up, projecting an aura of control and confidence while hiding his uneasiness. He paused at the entrance and scanned the room.  
  
A group of close to 20, maybe 30 people, had gathered in the far corner. A young woman stood on a table, haranguing the crowd. People chorused her slogans. Some even pumped their fists in the air at each cry.  
  
The rest of the patrons observed the scene form their respective tables but did not take part in the protest. Some showed some interest while others just kept eating their breakfast. When they saw Kane enter, some left their trays and abandoned the room.  
  
Jasper, Monty and Murphy quietly observed the scene from one side of the room. At least they weren’t getting into trouble.  
  
The yells began to subside somewhat as he made his way to an empty table and stood there. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any gestures to placate them or demand silence. He just stood still and kept a serious expression all the while keeping eye contact with the group.  
  
A few moments passed. The crowd chanted even louder: “Free Pike! Free Pike! Pike!”. When they saw no response from Kane, their energy shifted. They became hesitant. Some of the protesters eyed him uncomfortable. Their chants ebbed somewhat.  
  
The woman leading them reveled in the chaos,a smirk playing at her lips. Her gaze fixed on Kane while she pumped her fist at the chants.  
  
Kane took the opportunity to watch them. While one corner of the cafeteria boiled in protest, the rest tried to stay clear, watching the scene with expressions of distrust and frear. Pike had managed to polarize them. You were either with him or against him.  
  
The protesters looked at Kane hesitant at his lack of response. They kept yelling. “Pike! Pike! Pike!” Some people accompanied the chanting clanking the metal trays or glasses against the tables.  
  
Kane observed them with a schooled expression. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abby coming to stand to one side, behind him. He made a small gesture with his head and returned his attention to the protesters. He remained impassive. Didn’t say a word and didn’t move while people kept yelling. He waited them out.  
  
Their protests continued. But some of them stopped making noise and watched him, waiting for his reaction. The woman on top of the table tried to rile up the group. But the chants began to ebb away in earnest until silence fell on the group.  
  
The woman jumped to the floor and came to stand in front of the group.  
  
Kane recognized her. Kate? No. Karen. She had been very vocal when they came clean with the oxygen problem at the station. The woman moved to stand a few yards from him.  
  
“You are going to lock us up too?” She asked in a belligerent tone. She gestured to someone behind Kane.  
  
He turned around and saw the lieutenant stepping into the room and taking a position next to the door. A couple of guards stood on the threshold. Kane made a gesture to the woman who ordered her people to go back into the corridor.  
  
The lieutenant stayed inside the cafeteria. Her rifle hung from her shoulder. Ready to be used.  
  
“We’re not locking anyone up without a reason, Karen,” he said looking at her with a determined and calm expression. The woman was taken aback at being recognized. Kane pressed on. His gaze swept over the group. “It’s true we have taken a group of people to a large room.”  
  
“Yeah, all those who have supported Pike. The ones that didn’t vote for you, right? Too bad you can’t float anyone now,” she said with venom. “Or have another culling?”  
  
Kane managed to keep his facade but the memories of what they had done up in the Ark still haunted him. Yes. It had been necessary to save their people. It had been their only choice. And it was something that even now sometimes kept him awake at night.  
  
“No one is going to be executed,” he said with determination.  
  
“Then release Pike,” a voice said from within the protesters.  
  
Kane shot a look trying to identify the person who had spoken. People stared back at him. He spotted the man. A Farmer. One of Pike’s men. Kane scanned the group. He counted four more guards loyal to Pike.  
  
“Pike is being held until he goes to trial for attacking the Grounder army.”  
  
“That army had been sent to wipe us out. To take away our land,” Karen retaliated.  
  
“That army had been sent to protect us. They had instructions from Commander Lexa to prevent any attack on us.” His gaze went from face to face, meeting people’s stares. “They were there to defend us.”  
  
A low murmur rose from the crowd.  
  
“Pike committed a crime. He broke the alliance with the Grounders and massacred an army sent to protect us with no provocation.” He looked around the room. This was important. It was a message people seemed not wanting to listen to. The consequences of Pike’s actions were far more reaching than any of them suspected. “He’s put us on the brink of a war we cannot win. And let’s keep something clear. We live on their lands. We are the intruders here.”  
  
He took a moment to look at everyone in the room. People were paying close attention to them.  
  
“Pike will stand trial. And there will be no executions,” he announced.  
  
Karen looked at him with utter distrust.  
  
“What about our people? My boyfriend?” she said gesturing to encompass the group.  
  
Kane hesitated for a moment.  
  
“They’re being held in quarantine,” Abby said from her position.  
  
“Quarantine?” Karen asked puzzled.  
  
People’s attention focused on Abby as she moved to stand beside Kane. She studied the group trying to read their faces. They were apprehensive, angry, upset, hesitant… But one face made her stop cold. The woman that had freaked her out the day before was staring back at her. With that same lack of expression. Her heart started bumping against her chest and drowned the sounds around her. She looked at other people’s expressions. A few of them sported the same aloofness. The feeling of being watched returned at once in full force. Abby flicked a nervous glance at Kane.  
  
“How come no one has said anything?” A person asked.  
  
“Is it contagious?” another one said.  
  
Abby broke out of her daze and stepped forward. “No, it’s not contagious.” Murmurs rose in the crowd. “The outbreak is contained. And the people who are suffering from this condition are under vigilance,” she said while studying people’s reactions.  
  
She searched again for the woman. She found her with that same expression. The woman suddenly turned her head and smiled weakly at someone to her left and talked back. Abby followed her gaze. Another person was talking to her.  
  
Abby tried to shake off the feeling she was going paranoid. She couldn’t keep going like this. But there were other people behaving in the same way.  
  
Abby didn’t hear the question directed at her. She had counted eight people with that expression. Eight that she suspected of. She cast a glance at the other people watching the stand off in the cafeteria.  
  
“Abby?” She heard Kane prodding her. Abby shot a look at him and managed to somewhat regain her composure.  
  
“The important thing is that we have contained the outbreak. As soon as we have given them a treatment and make sure there are no lasting effects, they will be released,” Abby said, realizing she hadn’t heard the question. “We are fitting the room to make them more comfortable. But until I am sure they’re perfectly okay, they will be in quarantine.”  
  
“Is it serious?” Karen asked.  
  
Abby looked at her and gave her a tentative smile. “I don’t believe it is. But we’re taking all the precautions to make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”  
  
The statement seemed to appease Karen.  
  
“So, please, don’t rush to conclusions.”  
  
Kane took the moment to step in. “Stand down and go back to work.” He took a look at everyone in the room. “Please.”  
  
A low hum flooded the cafeteria as people shuffled, picking up the trays and going back to their business.  
  
Kane turned to Abby who had a slight pale face.  
  
“You okay?” he asked her touching her arm.  
  
Abby had her gaze fixed on the protesters. “Yeah, yeah…” she said as if coming out of a daze. She smiled weakly. “I’ve been up for too long. I’m exhausted.”  
  
Kane returned her smile and, putting his hand in the small of her back, he directed her outside. “Come. Get some sleep. Raven won’t wake up for a while. You need rest. I’ll get someone take you something to eat.”  
  
As they made their way to the exit, Abby turned one last time. The woman was talking with some people, her back towards Abby. Abby let out a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye a flahs of red got her attention. She whipped her head towards it but she only saw a group of people chatting quietly. Chalking up her paranoia to sleep deprivation, she turned around and let Kane guide her outside.  
  
ALIE observed the doctor and chancellor leaving the room. The guards waiting for them outside to escort them back.  
  
She turned her attention to the people in the cafeteria. The woman who had been staring at Abby walked up to her, awaiting new orders.  


* * *

  
  
  
‘ _You can’t fix this. Go back, Clarke’_  
  
Clarke mulled over Lexa’s words as she rode the horse back to Arkadia. Her mind still replaying her conversation with Lexa time and time again. She turned her head once more to look back, hoping to see the Grounder following them.  
  
“She’ll be fine,” she heard Argus say.  
  
Clarke turned to look at him. “How do you know?”  
  
Argus cast a side glance at her with a small smile on his lips. The man rode alongside her, with his back straight, his eyes scanning their surroundings, alert to any threats. “She is Heda,” he answered, matter of fact.  
  
Clarke furrowed her brow and averted his eyes. The woman she had talked to a while ago was not the leader she had seen facing Queen Nia or planning the attack on Mount Weather. She had met a fragile young woman. Someone who seemed lost. It pained her seeing Lexa so despondent. And it scared her.  
  
“You doubt her.”  
  
Clarke whipped her head. “No!” Her answer was too swift. She looked at her hands holding the reins of her mare. Maybe if she repeated it more times she might convince herself. “I realize things are not the same for her. That she needs time.”  
  
“ _Lexa kom Trikru_ is much stronger than you think,” he said. “She’ll do what is right.”  
  
Clarke remained silent. She felt envious of Argus’ absolute faith on Lexa. But she couldn’t help fear for her people. If Lexa walked out… Lexa’s bloodied face came to her mind.  
  
_‘I made this decision with my head and not my heart.’_  
  
She had left them hanging before. She shook her head trying to dispel that memory from her mind. But the seed was there.  
  
“The Flame chooses wisely, _Wanheda_ ,” Argus said with a serious expression, interrupting her train of thought. “It wouldn’t have picked Lexa if she weren’t strong.”  
  
“Picked? I thought whoever won the fight was the next commander.”  
  
Argus took a moment to measure his words before answering her. “The Conclave has several parts. The fight is only the first. It tests the _Natblidas_ ’ prowess as warriors by competing amongst themselves. There is another test, as important as the fight itself if not more. The Flame can reject the winning _Natblida_ if they don’t complete that test or the Commander’s Spirit believes the initiate is not worthy.”  
  
Clarke blinked a couple of times as she tried to assimilate how they could talk about a chip as if it were a living entity. “Not worthy? Has it ever happened?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Clarke looked ahead of her, deep in thought. It was not surprising. Whoever won the fight to the death became the new commander. It was that simple. The chip just moved from one host to the next. As long as said host was a nightblood.  
  
“You don’t believe in our customs.” Clarke didn’t answer. “How do you chose your leader?”  
  
“We vote for them. Everyone chooses a candidate. The one with the most support is elected as our chancellor.”  
  
“Does it work?”  
  
The faces of Kane, Jaha, her mother and Pike came to her mind in rapid succession. Herself taking over the negotiation with Lexa, planning the attack on Mount Weather. “Sometimes,” she said looking away.  
  
Argus hummed, apparently satisfied with her answer.  
  
Clarke looked around her. She recognized the area. They were close to Arkadia. She stole a glance at Argus. “Are there more _Natblidas_?”  
  
Argus nodded. Clarke waited for him to add something but the warrior kept silent.  
  
“But there are no trained _Natblidas_ who can fight Ontari.” Argus gave her an inquisitive look. “Besides Lexa.” Clarke held his probing stare. The man kept looking at her, weighing her words.  
  
“No. _Lexa kom Trikru_ is the only one who can take Ontari down. She is the true Heda.”  
  
Clarke looked in front of her without seeing. Her mind replaying once more her conversation. “Only Lexa.”  
  
“Heda will always do what’s best for her people.”  
  
Clarke nodded. Yes. She knew Lexa would always do that.  
  
Clarke pursed her lips. They couldn’t risk it.  


* * *

 

  
  
The Flame rested inside the small box, awaiting the new commander.  
  
Titus watched it with veneration in his eyes. He closed the lid of the _Fleimkidon_. He caressed it with care and love. The future of their traditions, of their world, depended on the small book and the contents of the small kit. He stared for a second at the worn-out edges, at the time-faded drawings that once adorned the bundle. The pliant leather was soft to the touch. He held his people’s future in his hands.  
  
The door opened softly behind him. He turned around.  
  
Four _Fleimgona_ , dressed in their fatigues, entered the room. He had hand-picked them himself when they were kids. Trained them. Taught them. He had no doubts about their commitment. And what he had asked of them proved their loyalty to the Flame.  
  
Without saying a word, he approached the group and handed the _Fleimkidon_ over to a young warrior who bowed his head, took it with reverence and tucked it under his tunic. The young warrior looked at him one more time and left the room accompanied by two other warriors.  
  
Titus watched the door closed behind them. He had no choice. He had a responsibility, a duty, to keep the Flame safe. He lowered his head and said a silent prayer.  
  
“ _Fleimkepa_?” The other warrior asked.  
  
Titus raised his head turning to look at his last warrior. “Get everyone ready for my signal. No mistakes.”  
  
“ _Sha_ ,” the woman said, bowing her head. She left the room.  
  
He let out a sigh and looked around his study. The engravings and drawings on the wall. He always felt drawn to the mural of the first commander. The silhouette of a woman. Becca. No one remembered her name except a selected few. The Heda, his acolytes and himself. Time and a lack of care for a number of years had taken its toll on the mural. Back when a commander had insisted on dismissing and interpreting the teachings of the first commander at his own free will. That’s when the _Fleimkepa_ had realized the need to create a close-knit guard that would make sure no one would disrupt or erase what Becca had achieved in her time. Thus the _Fleimgona_ were created.  
  
Titus had heard the stories of such dark times but he never imagined he would have to live through an even worse period. It surpassed even the Clan Wars until Lexa managed to unite them. He looked around the room. His gaze caressing every corner that he had grown to love. This had been his home. He had dedicated his life to ensure the legacy of the first commander. To guide the next one on the true path.  
  
He walked over to a chest in the farthest corner of the room. Near the commander’s vessel. He used his sleeve to wipe away the dust that covered the lid of the small chest. He slid aside a small lid revealing the lock mechanism. A crude but effective combination lock. He rotated the small wheels until the small drawings aligned forming the access combination. He felt the chest in the back, trusting his sense of touch to reveal him the small ridge that indicated the hidden button. He pressed it slightly producing a soft click.  
  
Titus straightened his back and looked at the lid. He never thought he would have to use it again. He opened the chest revealing a beautifully curved dagger with the emblem of the first commander engraved on the blade. A masterful swordsmanship job. He picked up the dagger and examined it. It was in very good condition. He would have to clean it up but it would serve its purpose.  
  
He heard the door open behind him. He froze for a second. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He closed the chest, tucked the dagger inside his robes and rose to his feet, turning to meet the intruder.  
  
He stopped short on his tracks as he found Roan watching him intently.  
  
“ _Fleimkepa_ ” he said with a slight bow of his head.  
  
“King Roan.” Titus moved away from the chest to the lower part of the room. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he said while busying himself putting away some scrolls  
  
“Actually, I am here to help you.”  
  
Titus paused for a second. “I don’t need your help.”  
  
Roan stepped closer to him. Titus used his experience in the throne room to keep his expression bland. He was as deft a warrior as Roan himself. Titus held his stare.  
  
“But you do,” Roan said in a low voice, leaning slightly over him, taking advantage of their height difference. “Ontari has asked me to make sure the Recitation of the Lineage goes according to plan.” Roan’s gaze swept over the room. He had heard of it but he hadn’t had the chance to actually see it with his own eyes.  
  
“There is no reason to be concerned. Please, let _Ontari kom Azgeda_ know that the ceremony will take place in the throne room,” he said with formality, “as it is our custom. Or does the new Heda wish to change that as well?”  
  
Roan’s eyes took on a dangerous glint which quickly vanished as a smirk curved his mouth. “You would do well to keep your advice to yourself, _Fleimkepa_ when it comes to tell Ontari what she should do.”  
  
Titus’ eyes flashed in annoyance. “My duty is to the Flame, King Roan. You should know that.”  
  
Roan looked at him. The _Fleimkepa_ had seen to five Hedas. His reputation as a stickler to the Flame was well known across the clans. He focused his attentions on the mural of the woman.  
  
“The first commander?” he said gesturing at the mural with his head.  
  
Titus glanced in the direction. “Yes.”  
  
Roan nodded in silence as he took the opportunity to take a good look at the room. The strange large object that sat near the farthest wall caught his attention. He slowly walked up to it.  
  
Titus followed him, keeping some distance. He didn’t trust the man.  
  
Roan touched the metallic surface of the vessel, caressing the words engraved on its surface. He moved to the small window.  
  
Titus reacted quickly and placed himself between Roan and the vessel. “I think that is enough, King Roan.”  
  
The Azgeda warrior stared at him for a moment. He gave a small chuckle and moved away from the object. He climbed down the few steps.  
  
Titus eyed him from his vantage point. “What do you want, King Roan?” he asked as he moved away from the vessel. “I am sure you haven’t come all the way here just to tell me something I already know.”  
  
Roan came to stand near a cabinet that held some formal attire from previous commanders.  
  
“No, of course not,” he said touching the fabric of some jackets as if appraising their quality. “Just wanted to make sure nothing,” he paused as if looking for the exact word, “unexpected happens.”  
  
“And what might that be?”  
  
“Something preventing you from holding the ceremony,” he said with a sideway glance. He had focused his attention on a shoulder guard similar to the one Lexa had worn.  
  
Titus kept a neutral expression. “Nothing will happen, King Roan. My duty is to serve the Flame and the Commander.”  
  
“In that order?”  
  
Titus studied Roan carefully but said nothing.  
  
“You see? Rumor has it that, aside from his scouts, the _Fleimkepa_ has this group of warriors that are only loyal to him,” he said looking at Titus straight in the eye. “Warriors picked and trained by the _Fleimkepa_ himself.”  
  
Titus pursed his lips in a tense smile. “My scouts help me find Natblidas and bring them here to train for the next Conclave. They’re not assassins. My people are trained to follow the teachings of the first commander. To make sure the legacy is not lost.”  
  
“And if the commander strays from the path, what then?” he asked. “You take them down?” He turned to look at Titus. “Because in that case, I should thank you for taking Lexa down.”  
  
Titus’ eyes blazed in barely concealed fury. The words stung.  
  
“I am sure you remember Connla,” Roan said.  
  
“The fallen _Azgeda_. The _Natrona_.”  
  
“But he wasn’t one. His attempts to move beyond what the first commander had established were cut short. He died in an ambush.  Mountain Men... aparently.”  
  
“I am familiar with the story—”  
  
“—So a new commander rose, a _Floukru_ ,” Roan continued ignoring Titus’ comment. “A commander that reinstated the teachings and principles of the first Heda.”  
  
“You know your history, King Roan.”  
  
Roan gave him a predatory smile. “Oh, we Azgeda haven’t forgotten. Your predecessor made sure Heda Connla did not live long enough to put his plans into motion.”  
  
“I am not responsible for the actions of my predecessor.”  
  
“No, you’re not,” he said picking an object. He turned around to face Titus. “But you would do well to remember what happened to your mentor a few months later.”  
  
Titus did remember. A shiver run down his spine as he recalled the Fleimkepa’s face contorted in agony, his body shook with seizures and pustules covered large parts of his body as the poison ran through his veins, sapping the life out of him. It had been a slow excruciating death. The person responsible for it had wanted him to suffer. The commander never found out who had been behind the Fleimkepa’s assassination. As his successor, Titus made some discreet inquiries into his mentor’s death which turned up nothing. However, in the course of his investigation someone caught his attention.  
  
A new queen had risen in the north. A queen who disregarded the traditions set forth by the first commander. Her ambition had taken her to the throne of _Azgeda_. And, if his informants were right, the woman had set her eyes on the throne at Polis. Young, ambitious and cunning beyond her age. Queen Nia.  
  
Titus looked at Roan in the eye. “I do remember.”  
  
“Then you would do well to keep that in mind,” he said with a growl in his voice. “The Recitation will take place at sundown. Make sure you have everything ready by then.” He turned around and made his way to the door.  
  
“Tell me, King Roan, do you actually believe Ontari will let you live long?”  
  
Roan stopped at the door and turned around but didn’t say anything.  
  
Titus pressed on, exploiting the wedge he’d sensed between both _Azgeda_. “She’s risen to power. She rules over what’s left of the coalition and no other warrior will try to vanquish her from the throne. Not while she has control of the _Azgeda_ army and several of Queen Nia’s advisors at her side. And not while she has the support of a few clans. After all, Queen Nia chose her,” he took a few steps toward Roan, “over her own son.” Titus stopped only a yard from Roan. “It’s only natural to think that someone like her might suspect you may be interested in the throne as well. After all, you are the natural heir. Not her. You’re the threat.”  
  
Roan stood staring at Titus with an inscrutable expression but the barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes betrayed him.  
  
“How long before Ontari feels she’s the only one for the throne of _Azgeda_? Before her advisors suggest her to eliminate any risk?”  
  
Roan gave step, entering in Titus personal space. “Do your job, _Fleimkepa_ , or I will make sure to find someone who will.”  
  
Roan whirled around and left the room, leaving the door open.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry for the delay. One good thing about Nanowrimo is that you get to write A LOT. The downside is that sometimes most of what you write is not good enough to post and there's a lot of rewriting involved. 
> 
> Hope you like the new chapter. Let me know what you think. Good or bad.
> 
> Trigedasleng translations at the end of chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bellamy pushed his rifle to one side while he scraped off the food leftovers from his tray. He didn’t rush despite the bad odor emanating from the bin and surrounding area. A gift from Farmers and others who protested Kane. He didn’t look around him but he could swear he actually felt some stares trying to dig holes in the back of his neck. He had taken his time eating his lunch alone at one side of the table. Other guards had sat at the same table but except for a few wary glances, few words were exchanged.   
  
He looked in their direction. A few of them looked down as they prodded their dinner but three guards met his gaze defiantly while they talked. He couldn’t hear them. He didn’t need to.  
  
“Hey, Bellamy, you ready?” Bellamy turned to the voice. Mike was at the door. “We’re gonna be late.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said on his way to the door. He didn’t look back.  
  
  
  
  
“I swear I will mutiny if it starts to rain again,” Mike said as he glanced at the sky.  
  
Bellamy smiled at the wisecrack. Heavy dark clouds threatened with rain.   
  
“But we’ll sleep warm. The guys in the night shift will have it worse.” It felt good to have a partner who didn’t look at him as if he were a criminal.  
  
He saw the men they were supposed to relieve from duty. They were talking to two other people: two civilians. Their gestures growing heated.  
  
“Another discussion?” Mike said pointing to the group.  
  
Bellamy hummed in assent. “That’s Brian, right?”  
  
“Yeah, Owen’s the—“  
  
The other guard punched Brian in the face. The man took a jab at Owen. The two civilians took a step back but began chanting, cheering them on. The guards locked in a fight drawing the attention of some people nearby.  
  
“Hey! Break it up!” Bellamy yelled as he and Mike raced towards them.   
  
Bellamy grabbed Brian by an arm, trying to break the scuffle. “Enough,” he ordered.  
  
Mike pushed Owen away. “Back off. What’s wrong with you two?”   
  
“He’s what’s wrong,” Owen yelled. “Stupid Arker.” He avoided Mike and lunged at Bellamy and Brian.  
  
Bellamy got in the middle trying to keep them apart. “Back off!”  
  
Brian spat a glob of bloody saliva on his assailant. “Fuck you, Farmer.”  
  
Owen roared and took a swing at Bellamy, punching him in the face and elbowing him in the ribs to try to get at the other guard. Bellamy grunted in pain as the wind was knocked out of him. Mike stepped in and grabbed Owen, lunging him backwards. Bellamy regained his breath. “That’s enough,” he yelled, gasping. “Everyone stops now.”  
  
“You’re the one who turned on us,” one of the civilians spat angrily. “Your sister used to fuck that Grounder. You’re the one who betrayed Pike.”  
  
Bellamy turned to glare at the woman, ready to bite her head off. But the woman gave him no respite. Her arm cocked back and punched him in the face. His head rolled back with the impact. A wound on his cheekbone from his fight with Octavia broke again. Pain flared up making him wince.   
  
“Stop it” Mike yelled near them.  
  
Bellamy slammed the butt of his rifle in her stomach. She doubled down, gasping for breath. His gaze swiftly scanned the growing crowd around them. People had approached them, muttering under their breaths. Some angry glares were directed at him.  
  
“This is Wilson in sector four of the wall requesting backup. I repeat, Wilson requesting backup. Sector four req—” The male civilian tackled him down. The force of the impact threw the radio a few feet away in the mud. The radio crackled in a garbled voice Bellamy didn’t get to hear.   
  
“Traitor!” Owen yelled, attacking him with his rifle. Bellamy ducked, barely missing the butt of the weapon aimed at his head. He tried to sidestep turning his body to get out of the guard’s space but a leg struck him in the back of his knees. He fell to the floor on his back, the force of the impact forcing the air out of his lungs, the cold muddy ground staining his clothes, and rolled on himself. A sea of legs, bodies and the ground spun around him. Before he could make sense of his surroundings, a kick connected with the small of his back. He grunted and gasped for breath, closing his eyes for a second. Pain shot up along his spine. Another kick landed on his ribs. His breath came out in a swoosh of air. He coughed, trying to breath again. He heard more shouts as he tried to get up.  
  
A body fell on him, trapping him to the ground, pushing his face into the cold mud. He managed to twist his body to try face his attacker. Owen had straddled him. His arm drawn back, ready to strike him.   
  
Bellamy grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at his face. The man tried to duck giving Bellamy time to destabilize him. They grappled and wrestled at each other. Hands and arms flailing, swatting, blocking and jabbing. Bellamy managed to hit Owen a couple of times but took another punch in the face. A hand closed around his neck.  
  
A shot rang loudly in the sky.  
  
Both men froze on the spot, panting heavily, big puffs of air coming out of their mouths. Owen still held Bellamy by the throat with one hand. He looked to one side and slowly raised his arms in surrender. He was gasping heavily. His face splotched with mud, bruises were already forming and blood seeped from a broken lip.  
  
Bellamy let his head fall to the ground, wincing in pain. He let his arms fall back to the cold ground as a sign of surrender.  
  
“Get up,” a voice ordered. “Now. Keep your hands up.”  
  
Owen got up slowly, with effort, leveling Bellamy with a glowering look as he stepped away a few steps.  
  
Bellamy grunted, his breath coming in short puffs. He closed his eyes and stayed on the ground for a moment, trying to get his bearings back. The ground was freezing cold but he needed a minute to let his body rest.  
  
“Round them up,” the voice said. “Secure their weapons.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
He heard footsteps getting closer him. He opened his eyes and slightly turned his head towards the sound. Captain Blynn entered his field of vision. She was holding a gun in her hand.  
  
Putting her gun back in the holster, Blynn help Bellamy to his feet who stood gingerly, grabbing his ribs.   
  
“Thanks,” he murmured to her. He glanced around him. Three guards were herding a disarmed Owen and Brian with the two civilians. A small crowd was watching. Some glared at Captain Blynn and the guards.  
  
“You Arkers always back each other up,” someone said from the crowd.   
  
“Pike is the true chancellor!” another voice said.  
  
“That’s enough!” Kane’s voice rang out.   
  
Kane ran to the group, panting. Four four armed guards were not far behind. “Captain Blynn?” he asked.  
  
“A scuffle, sir,” she said gesturing to the group.  
  
“He attacked me, unprovoked,” Owen said, pointing at Brian.  
  
“That’s a lie!”  
  
Kane surveyed the group. “Arrest them. All of them. Get them back in their rooms and lock them up.” He assessed the civilian couple. “Take their statements. And have someone from medical take a look at them.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Blynn focused her attention on the group. “You heard the chancellor. Get going! Lieutenant, you’re in charge.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am!” A man said. He glared at the group, “Move!” The reinforcements herded the offenders away.   
  
Bellamy stood, still gasping, feeling the contours of his ribs with his fingers. Nothing felt broken. He touched a spot on his right side and gritted his teeth, exhaling noisily through his nose. That side was tender. No sleeping on that side for a few days, he thought. He raised his head and saw Blynn talking with Mike.   
  
“You okay?” Kane asked walking over to him.  
  
Bellamy nodded with a grimace.   
  
“Go to medical. Get yourself cleaned up, Bellamy.”  
  
“I can finish my shift, Chancellor,” he said with a hint of defiance.  
  
Kane’s eyes softened slightly but kept a serious expression. “I know you can. And you will. But get cleaned up first. Go back to your post as soon as you’re done.”  
  
Bellamy nodded and headed towards the station.  
  
Captain Blynn dismissed Mike and walked towards Kane.  
  
“Again?” he asked.  
  
Her forehead creased. “It’s the fifth incident this morning, Chancellor.”  
  
Kane straightened his back. He turned towards the forest line. He had hoped for a peaceful transition. They couldn’t afford this. Not now. He remained silent for a few moments. His gaze inspected their surroundings.  
  
“Chancellor?”  
  
Kane turned towards her. “Change the shifts. No Farmers are to be in positions that could give them access to weapons. All firearms will be turned in at the end of each shift and will be accounted for. Intervene at the first sign of trouble.”  
  
“That’s gonna make them even angrier.”  
  
Kane offered a wane smiled. “Dismissed, Captain.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the woman said. She saluted and left.  
  
Kane slowly walked back to the station. People turned back to their chores. He noticed the looks directed at him. Specially those coming from the few Farm Station people that had stayed to watch. He couldn’t help but wonder if sometimes the cure was worse than the disease.  
  


* * *

  
  
Monty swallowed hard, his pulse quickening in dread, as he advanced through the corridor. He could see the guards sitting in their chairs a few yards ahead.  
  
He had mustered all his courage to face his mother but with every step he took in the dark-lit corridor his body felt heavier and heavier. He inhaled deeply as he neared the cells.  
  
One of the guards saw him and motioned with his hand him to come forward.  
  
He walked up to them, avoiding peeking inside the cell. Forcing himself to look at the guard and only him. There was nothing else.   
      
“You have 10 minutes. Not a minute longer, understood?”  
  
Monty nodded with a nervous gesture. He could still turn around. He glanced back. The corridor was still there, welcoming and inviting. He lowered his head, breathed in and squared his shoulders, and tried to still his shaking hands.  
  
He turned towards the cell where his mother was being held and stepped close to the bars. His eyes rapidly scanned the room. Pike was resting on the bunk to his left with the rest of his men. Monty’s gaze fell on his mother. She was lying down, sleeping, on the bunk at the far end. His heart began to beat faster in his chest. He could still turn around. He could still avoid this.  
  
Movement to his left caught his eye. Pike had noticed him looking at Hannah. They exchanged a glance. Without saying anything, Pike got up and walked up to Hannah. He bent over her and shook her shoulder gently, waking her up.  
  
Monty saw his mother half turning her body, listening to Pike, who whispered in her ear. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes widening for an instant. She muttered something and gave a curt nod at Pike, who went back to his bunk. She slowly sat down and rubbed the sleep off her face. Monty stole a yearning glance at the corridor. He could still make it. He could turn around and leave. He glanced back at his mother who was staring back at him. His heart thumped so loudly in his ears that for a moment it drowned every other sound. His body, leaden-heavy, stood rooted to the floor.  
  
He squared his shoulders, reminding himself of the reason for confronting his mother. He clenched his hands into fists while trying to school his features, and stared at her. If he didn’t find out the truth, it would haunt him for the rest of his life. But the truth could also destroy whatever was left of their relationship.  
  
His mother got up and made his way to him. He studied her. She was disheveled but seemed to be okay. He saw his fear reflected in his mother’s face. The same trepidation.  
  
They remained quiet for a few moments. Neither of them capable of breaking the silence. Of giving the first step.  
  
Monty eyed Pike who was watching them out of the corner of his eye. The rest of the men seemed to pretend they were not paying attention. The last thing he needed was an audience but he had no choice.  
  
“How are you?” His mother asked in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Monty whipped his head around and they locked eyes. Such a stupid question.  
  
“Was it true?” he asked instead.  
  
Hannah widened her eyes in surprise, clearly not expecting Monty to be so forthright. Her expression softened a bit. “Monty, you need to understand—”  
  
“Is it true?” Monty asked again more forcefully.  
  
Hannah inhaled deeply. “Yes.”  
  
His body went rigid, cold. His eyes stung.  
  
“Why?” Monty felt his rage mounting rapidly.   
  
“You have to understand. Your father was always a bit difficult—”  
  
“You’re lying.”   
  
“—even back at the station.” Hannah shifted her weight, trying to find the right words. “When we crashed here, he became even harder to deal with. His views would’ve gotten us killed. It got to a point where he left us — left me — no choice.”  
  
Monty stood frozen, watching his mother as she tried to justify killing his father. No choice.  
  
“The Grounders were attacking us day and night. We had only a few hours of sunlight a day. Whenever we left to get food or look for wood, they would hunt us down,” she said. “You don’t know that it’s like.”  
  
“Actually I do, mom.”  
  
“Then you have to understand what I did,” she said. A sliver of hope.  
  
“Did you talk to him? Did you offer him an option? Did you give him a chance?” His voice kept rising with each question.  
  
Hannah glanced around her, hushing him.  
  
“Don’t hush me,” said Monty, livid. “I don’t care if everyone knows. I don’t fucking care! You killed him!” His voice echoed in the corridor, startling everyone.  
  
“We had no choice! If we didn’t stop him he was gonna get us all killed!”  
  
“How can you justify it? How can you?” he yelled at her face. He expelled a frustrated sigh, trying to rein in his emotions. He noticed Pike looking their way. “Did he put you up to it?” he asked pointing at him.  
  
Hannah glanced back in Pike’s direction. “No, he did not,” she said with a shake of her head, lifting up her chin and looking at him in the eyes.   
  
Monty stared at her, mouth open. “It was your idea…” he mumbled in shock.  
  
“Listen to me, son. Your father believed he could negotiate with them. He was wrong. He put everyone at risk. He endangered the entire colony. We had to stop him.”  
  
Monty lowered his head and looked at his feet. He couldn’t face his mother. Couldn’t hear what she was admitting to.  
  
“He didn’t listen, didn’t want to admit he was wrong. He left us no choice.”  
  
“Did you try, just once, what he suggested?”  
  
Hannah glanced back at Pike and then back at her son. “Yes. And it went bad,” she said lowering her voice. “That day we lost many people.”  
  
“So you had him killed?!”  
  
She held his stare, unblinking. She nodded slowly.  
  
Monty felt his blood ran cold. His eyes search his mother’s face, trying to reconcile his memories of her with the woman that stood before him.  
  
“I had no choice, Monty. If I could have found another way… Trust me. I tried to reason with him. Talked to him. He didn’t listen. He put us all in danger.”  
  
“No.” Monty shook his head. “Dad would never do that.”  
  
“He did.” She raised her hand and grabbed one of the bars. “I know this is not what you want to hear—”  
  
“Dad would never do that,” Monty repeated with more force, raising his voice.  
  
“It hurt me as much as it hurts you.”  
  
“Bullshit!” he yelled.   
  
“Listen to me,” Hannah said sternly, “sometimes you make choices you don’t want to make. Choices you hate but are necessary.”  
  
“Necessary?” Monty said. “Necessary?!”  
  
“Yes! It was either him or the rest of the colony. You had it easy here! The Grounders here are not as vicious but they’re the same,” Hannah looked at him in the eye. “They will attack. Being prepared is not enough. We have to show them we’re here to stay and that we’re not going anywhere. This is our land now.” She stopped for a second, huffing in frustration. “Damn it, Monty. We’re family. We’re the only ones left. You are one of us.”  
  
Monty shook his head slowly. “Your people attacked an army sent to protect us—”  
  
“Your people? You supported Pike, remember? You were one of us.”  
  
His cheeks flushed in shame. “We slaughtered them. Pike,” he said gesturing with his head towards the former chancellor, “ordered a group of guards to kill innocent people in their sleep. He placed Kane and Lincoln for execution.”  
  
“And that shocks you? They betrayed Pike,” Hannah said angry. “Wake up. Grounders are a threat to our survival. Kane is too blinded by them. This is not the Ark anymore.”  
  
“Exactly! It’s not. It can be better.”  
  
Hannah looked at him as if suddenly she were seeing a new facet of her son that she hadn’t noticed before.  
  
“You’re like your father,” she said with a tone of sudden resignation after a few moments, lowering her hand. “You’re too trusting. Too naive.”  
  
Monty stood petrified staring at his mother. His heart pumped loudly in his ears. He felt his face flush hotly. His eyes stung. He looked away.   
  
Hannah stepped closer. “You need to grow a backbone, Monty. You still have a lot to learn. If Kane remains as  chancellor, Grounders will wipe us out. Please,” she begged, “don’t be like your father.”  
  
Monty snapped his head to look at his mother. His eyes shone with barely controlled rage as tears started rolling down his cheeks. “Fuck you,” he forced through gritted teeth. “Go float yourself, mom,” he said. He spat at his mother, whirled around and strode into the welcoming dark-lit corridor without looking back.  
  
Hannah swept her hand through her face, cleaning the gob of spit that had fallen on her right cheek. Her gaze followed her son’s escape.  
  
“Too much like his father,” Pike getting up his bunk.  
  
Hannah nodded slowly while she swiped her hand clean on her trousers. She sighed heavily. “I thought I could make him snap out of it. See what’s really going on out there.”  
  
“I am so sorry, Hannah.” Pike wrapped his arm around Hannah’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. She slumped against him. The fight with her son had depleted her energy. Tears began streaming down her cheeks.  
  
“I lost his father and now I’m losing him. I did what I had to. Why can’t he see it?”   
  
“He will. Someday. But not today.” He slowly guided her back to her bunk and made her sit. He patted her on the shoulder. Hannah looked at him with a grateful smile and patted his hand in response.  
  
“Get some rest.”  
  
Hannah watched Pike going back to his bunk. He began talking with his men in whispers. She leaned back against the wall and was about to close her eyes when she heard movement in the other cell. Turning her head, she saw Jaha checking on Jackson.  
  
The man turned to go back to his bunk and locked eyes with her. He gave her an empathetic smile and approached the division.  
  
“I couldn’t help but hearing your conversation,” he said. He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I am so sorry, Hannah. I truly am.”  
  
Hannah had heard the stories about Wells. She reminded herself she wasn’t there yet. She hadn’t lost her son. She dipped her head, acknowledging Jaha’s words.   
  
“If you ever want to talk, I am here,” he added, softening his expression. “There are other ways, Hannah. I can help you.”  
  


* * *

 

  
The gates of Arkadia swung open. Four guards took a defensive position at the entrance to greet the newcomers. Bellamy watched from a distance. He didn’t want to be noticed.  
  
Octavia stood at the gates, disheveled, with mud staining her clothes. Nyko came into view pulling a horse with a shrouded body drafted across the saddle. Three more Grounders walked behind, carrying shovels and picks.   
  
Bellamy observed his sister.  
  
Octavia’s eyes shone with determination born out of pain. She strode inside, gaze fixed to the front, not bothering to return the looks directed at her, her head held high, jaw firmly set, shoulders squared.   
  
Nyko softly pulled the reins of the horse and the animal obeyed immediately. The three Grounders closed the group. They were all bedraggled, dirty with mud, and weary.  
  
Bellamy followed them at some distance, staying outside Octavia’s field of vision, breaking through some people who stood still as they watched the Grounders make their way inside.  
  
Some conversations died down. Some people walked nearing the group, forming a sort of sparsely populated corridor. The guards at the door watched their interactions closely. They escorted the group leaving a few yards distance, should anything happen.  
  
The door to the station opened and Clarke emerged, followed closely by a big Grounder. They both watched the unlikely funeral march for a moment before making their way to them.  
  
Some more people joined in the corridor to watch the Grounders as they advanced. The Arkers remained silent. No one stepped forward. No one offered help.  
  
Bellamy watched a man in his mid-thirties emerging from one of the groups. The man strode with confidence to the middle of the corridor, stepping just in front of Octavia, forcing her to stop.  
  
“What are you doing here, Grounder lover? You betrayed your people! You don’t belong here!” He craned his neck to look at the group behind Octavia. “Get out of here, you filth! Go back!”  
  
He glanced around looking for the support he was sure to find among his peers. A few people cheered him on repeating “Go back!”  
  
Bellamy clenched his jaw. His eyes bore into the man’s head as he pushed through a group, trying to get to Octavia in time. He saw Clarke hurrying over to the man, followed by the bulky Grounder. Out of the corner of his eye, the guards from the gates were closing on in as well.  
  
The man goaded Octavia, chanting “Go back! Go back!” with his fist raised.  
  
Bellamy saw Octavia bore her eyes on the man, the stance of her body becoming more tense, coiled. The Grounders behind her cast anxious looks around them.  
  
Clarke ran towards them and wedged herself between them, staring up at the man as if his height advantage meant nothing to her.  
  
He pointed at her hair and clothes, chuckling. “So, another Grounder, huh? They brainwashed you or something over there?”  
  
“Walk away right now,” Clarke enunciated. Her voice  deceptively calm but firm.  
  
“Or what?”  
  
“Or I will kill you,” Octavia answered with a flat voice. Her black eyes drilling him.   
  
Bellamy broke through a small group and stood to one side, ready.  
  
“Filthy Grounder,” the man muttered with a sneer. He locked eyes with Clarke again giving her a derisive smirk. Clarke stood her ground. “You Arkers are pathetic.”  
  
Bellamy came out to stand a few feet from them. “That Arker is our Ambassador to the Grounder Coalition and a member of the Council.” The man shot a look at Bellamy. “And you are threatening my sister.”  
  
Bellamy glanced at Octavia but she kept her gaze focused on the man. There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in her eyes.  
  
Clarke gave one step forward, invading the man’s personal space. “I suggest you stay the hell away from them and from me. Or I will make sure to get you across the blockade line so you can tell them that in person.”  
  
The man scoffed but didn’t say anything. He cast a glance at Octavia and Bellamy. His eyes shifted to the rifle hanging from Bellamy’s shoulder.   
  
“Hey you!” A guard called out. “Come on, people. Break it up.” The guards closed in on them. “Everyone, go.”  
  
The man glanced at Clarke in disdain but his demeanor changed. He turned around on his feet and came face to face with Argus who towered above him. The man stepped around the Grounder, scowling, and with a furious last glance strode away from them. A few people joined him, muttering under their breaths.  
  
Clarke turned to look at Octavia.  
  
“I didn’t need your help,” Octavia ground through her teeth.  
  
“No. But he did.”  
  
Something in Octavia’s dark eyes shifted. A hint of a smirk seemed to curve her mouth. Though it was very fleeting it was there. Octavia slightly dipped her head as a gesture to Clarke. Bellamy gave a single step forward and Clarke turned her head. He glanced at his sister but she refused to even acknowledge his presence. He shot a glance at Clarke who shook her head ever so slightly. Not the time. Not the place.  
  
The guards dispersed the small crowd, who went back to their chores, talking in low voices. Two people approached carrying a stretcher.  
  
Clarke returned her attention to Octavia and Nyko.  
  
“Let’s go into medical. I was told my mom has everything you might need ready.” Clarke stole a warning glance at Bellamy who stood still, watching the conversation unfold.  
  
Octavia gave her a curt nod and made a sign to Nyko. The man went back to the horse and, with the help of the group, pulled Lincoln’s body from the horse just as the stretcher was placed next to the horse.  
  
Bellamy watched helpless as Clarke led the small group inside Arkadia. His focus shifted to the remaining Grounder that held the horse. The man was covered in mud up to his upper thighs, dried dark brown splotches dotted his arms, shirt and face. His features were drawn, tired. He pulled the reins to lead the horse back to the stables. Bellamy realized the man was one of the prisoners that had been held in Lincoln’s cell.  
  
On an impulse. “Wait.”  
  
The Grounder halted his steps and turned to look at him with suspicion.  
  
Bellamy looked around him. What had popped in his mind as a brilliant idea didn’t seem so grand right now. He wasn’t sure how the Grounder was going to react.  
  
He gestured towards the horse. “If you want, I can take care of it.” Bellamy huffed. He tried again. “I can help you with the horse. You can get some food at the cafeteria or get some rest.”  
  
The Grounder looked back at him with a blank expression on his face. Bellamy held his stare, unflinching. He tried to relax his body so the Grounder wouldn’t notice his nervousness.   
  
The man nodded slowly and handed the reins over to Bellamy who offered him a tentative smile.   
  
The Grounder looked at him with a serious expression. “ _Mochof_.”  
  
Bellamy opened his mouth to answer automatically but caught himself in time. The man was already turning to head to the station’s door. “How do you say you’re welcome?”  
  
The Grounder stopped and half turned to look at him. After a moment. “ _Pro_.”  
  
Bellamy nodded slowly. “ _Pro_.” He raised the horse’s reins in a gesture and added, “and… _mochof_.”  
  
The Grounder looked at him from head to toes but showed no emotion. He turned and continued towards the station’s entrance.  
  


* * *

  
Clarke leaned against the door frame watching intently as her mother helped finish gathering everything they needed. She couldn’t stop watching Octavia’s face. The raw pain in her eyes and her desperate efforts to hide it. She couldn’t stop thinking that she could have been in Octavia’s place. That for a few terrifying moments, she had been there.  
   
She saw her mother carrying some linens, setting them on a nearby chair and coming to stand at one side of the simple autopsy bed, in front of Nyko.  
  
Her mother’s gaze went from the bulky Grounder to Octavia, who stood at the head of the medical table, her stare fixed on Lincoln’s shrouded body. Clarke noticed the tension in Octavia’s body, the clenched jaw, the dark circles under her eyes that marred her once beautiful face, the slight quivering of her lips. Octavia was looking to where Lincoln’s face would be. She was barely able to keep it together.  
  
Clarke felt a hand softly pressing her shoulder, startling her. She turned her head. Argus was looking at her with a sad smile and flicked his glance towards Octavia.  
  
“Sorry,” Clarke said letting Argus inside the room.   
  
The man went to Octavia. He bowed slightly to her and muttered some words Clarke could not hear. But she saw the effect they had on Octavia. She lowered her head and nodded a few times. Argus placed his hand on Octavia’s shoulder and squeezed gently. She gave him a grateful look and said a few words. The man bowed his head again and with a final glance at Nyko, he headed back to Clarke.  
  
Clarke left enough space for him to pass. She heard a soft “ _Wahneda_ ” directed at her to which she decided to acknowledge with a subtle nod.  
  
She noticed her mother watching her for a second before focusing her attention back to Nyko and Octavia. They worked in silence. Her mother would steal an occasional glance at her now and then. The heavy duty scissors cut the rope that kept the shroud around Lincoln’s body. Each snip seemed to reverberate in the room. They slid the rope out and let if fall to the sides.   
  
Clarke couldn’t look away. A pair of hands grabbed an end of the dirty shroud at Lincoln’s head and slowly peeled it away. Mud and dirt fell onto the autopsy bed. Another pair of hands slightly held Lincoln’s head as they removed the shroud, unveiling his face.  
  
A wracking sob broke the silence. Another sob soon followed. Octavia caressed Lincoln’s face, dropping a kiss on his forehead. Her hands cradled his face. And finally pressing her forehead against his. Her cheek against his. Warm tears falling on his cold face. Lips quivering amid sobs. Her body shaking.  
  
Clarke managed to swallow the lump in her throat. She blinked a few times and inhaled deeply, trying not to let the scene get to her. And realizing it was too late for that.  
  
Nyko and Abby stepped away, moving closer to Clarke and giving some space and time to Octavia to say goodbye. Her mother stole another worried glance at her.  
  
Clarke felt her eyes sting watching Octavia’s crying in pain. Her mind kept conjuring up the images of Lexa’s lifeless body on the floor back in Polis and the anguish and dread she felt then. This could have been you, her mind kept telling her.   
  
Tears burned her eyes. Clarke blinked rapidly. But seeing Octavia mourning Lincoln overwhelmed her. She turned around and escaped to the medical beds area. To Raven’s bed, stopping only a few yards away from her.  
  
Her gaze moved over to Raven’s lying on the bed, her chest rose and fell steadily. The young woman was strapped to the bed. The straps held her legs and wrists for fear she could be a danger to herself and others. Raven was still under the effect of the sedatives. She noticed the dark circles around her eyes, the bandages on both wrists peeked from under the straps holding her. Clarke couldn’t help but find sadly ironic that Raven’s mind was being held prisoner by an AI while they had imprisoned her body to a bed. She couldn’t imagine what Raven was going through. But she was the key to defeating ALIE.  
  
She heard footsteps behind her. Her mother came to stand next to her. Clarke folded her arms in front of her chest.  
  
“Everything depends on her,” Clarke said in a low voice without looking at her mother. “If we don’t free her—”  
  
“—we will. She’s still sedated for now. I will wake her up when Sinclair is ready.”  
  
Clarke hummed in agreement, her eyes still fixed on Raven.  
  
She felt her mother’s eyes on her, studying her. “You okay?”  
  
Clarke took a moment before humming again.   
  
Abby couldn’t help herself. “That Grounder who came in… Who is he?”  
  
“Argus?” Clarke was a bit taken aback at her mother’s out of the blue question. “Lexa placed him as my bodyguard for the time being.” Clarke shifted her weight uncomfortable. Saying her name brought back her conversation with Lexa.  
  
“She did,” Abby muttered in a noncommittal voice.  
  
The silence grew between them.  
  
“I don’t trust her.”  
  
Clarke inhaled softly. Did she trust Lexa? Which Lexa could she trust? The lover or the commander?   
  
“You may not trust her, mom. But she’s saved my life more than once.”  
  
“She also betrayed you, us, at Mount Weather.”  
  
“Yes. She did,” Clarke turned to look at her mother. “And she was also the only one who came looking for me.” She saw her mother’s eyes widen in surprise and flash with hurt. “She sent her people to find me and bring me to Polis.”  
  
“She sent Azgeda warriors after you. They took you against your will,” Abby tried not to raise her voice. “And she held you in Polis.”  
  
Clarke huffed irritated and tired. She did not want to get into this. But her patience had run out. After a moment. “Did you ever try to find me?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Did you come looking for me? In those three months, did you or anyone else bothered to check up on me?”  
  
Abby’s face hardened in anger and hurt. “I resent that, Clarke,” she said with a hurt tone. “It’s not fair. I was worried sick about you.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “But you made it clear you wanted to leave. And I had to respect that. You have no idea what…” Her voice wavered.  
  
“Don’t buy it. You have mapped kilometers around the camp, but never once tried to know where I was.” Clarke did not relent. “You may not like Lexa. But she moved heaven and earth to find me and make sure I was safe. So don’t take it out on her for doing something my people should have done.”  
  
“I honestly don’t know the kind of hold she has on you—”  
  
“She has no hold on me!” Clarke hissed angry. “She has risked more than you know and she has tried to make things right. I may not agree with some of her decisions or choices but—” She stopped herself and huffed, frustrated. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t have the strength. “You are wrong about her.” She looked at her mother dead in the eyes. “Very wrong.”  
  
Clarke stalked out of medical, leaving a very hurt Abby behind.  
  
Abby looked to the ceiling, trying to bring her breathing and heart under control. She lowered her head with a heavy sigh and noticed Nyko watching her from the door frame.  
  
Abby smiled weakly at him and hastily made her way into her office, closing the door softly behind her.  
  


* * *

  
The slamming of the door took everyone by surprise. Ontari rose her head in irritation.   
  
Good, Roan thought.  
  
“King Roan, you better have a reason for interrupting my meeting.”  
  
His eyes went to one of the men who was leaning over the map table. Demetrus. One of his generals. So the rumors were true. He fixed him with a stare and after a few moments his gaze swept over the two advisors until he centered his attention back on Ontari.  
  
“I was told there was a meeting that involved my armies.”  
  
“A meeting you were not called to attend,” Ontari replied with an icy tone as she dropped the scroll she was holding. “That should be have been clue enough.”  
  
Roan studied the other men in the room, weighing his options. Butting heads with Ontari in front of her advisors and one of his generals was not a good idea.  
  
“Then I request a meeting, Heda,” he asked as politely as he could. “Now.”  
  
“You will have to wait.”  
  
“No, I won’t,” he said. He squared himself on the floor. His face set in a determined expression.  
  
Ontari’s eyes narrowed slightly but she schooled her features in a deceptive mild expression.   
  
“Leave us,” she ordered with a wave of her hand to her general and advisors while she kept her stare locked on Roan.  
  
The men looked between the new Heda and Roan and left the room in silence. The door clicked softly shut behind them.  
  
“How dare you contradict me in front of my people,” Ontari snapped, livid.  
  
“I am King of Azgeda. When you’re discussing the role of my armies, you make it my place.”  
  
“I decide what your place is, Roan,” she hissed. “Demetrus has taken your position. My decision is final,” she said turning around and giving him a dismissive once over.  
  
“A decision I knew nothing about. As King of Azgeda I choose my generals—”  
  
“I am Ontari _kom Azgeda_. _Heda kom Az_. I decide the fate of my people,” she hissed.  
  
Roan studied her for a few moments. “I see. And what has Heda decided for the King of Azgeda?” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Ontari looked at him for a moment. Roan defied her stare with one of his own. He would not back down.  
  
“You will return to Azgeda right after my Ascension,” she said with a regal tone, “and you will look after my people during the winter.” She looked at him a wolfish expression. “I will call for the remaining armies to join me here at Polis.”  
  
Roan furrowed his brow. He sensed the trap. “That will leave me with no means to defend ourselves.”  
  
“You’ll have to find a way to make do with the people left at Granzu.” Ontari hid a smirk.   
  
“They won’t be enough people capable to defend our lands. They’re too powerful. My people—”  
  
“Your people are my subjects. Every Grounder is my subject. Including you,” she said as she stepped closer to him. “Or are you saying you are refusing to carry out Heda’s orders, King Roan?”  
  
Roan stared at her. He knew he couldn’t refuse her orders. Not yet. “No,” he said narrowing his eyes. “I will do as you command.”  
  
Ontari nodded, satisfied, and moved a few steps away. “I am actually surprised you still remember the problems that afflict my lands. You have spent too much time away from your people, King Roan,” she said in a condescending tone. “I think it’s time you return to them.”  
  
Roan looked at her, realizing he had underestimated her. She was not his mother’s puppet. She wasn’t anyone’s puppet. His mother had done one hell of a job with her. She was Queen Nia’s heir. But he was still in control of his armies. She couldn’t go very far without his support. One of Azgeda’s generals were still loyal to him. He was convinced he could sway the other over to his side.  
  
“My mother taught me well,” he said. He eyed Ontari and decided to push her buttons. “Killing the Trikru Ambassador may not have been a good idea. Whatever’s left of the Coalition will abandon you if you keep killing their ambassadors when they don't do what you want. I am sure Queen Nia would agree with me.”  
  
“Queen Nia was a great mentor. I learned much with her,” she hit back. “The Ambassadors will follow me.”  
  
“My mother did not have to answer to them.”  
  
“Neither do I,” she said. “I don’t answer to the ambassadors, not to anyone,” she lowered her voice to a dangerous tone, “and definitely, not to you, King Roan.” The sarcasm in the use of his title was not lost to him. “ _I_ am Heda. I will create a new Coalition under my terms,” she said moving over to the map table. She picked one of the figurines at the side and toyed with it with her fingers. “Azgeda will be great again.”  
  
Roan looked at the map table where he could see the clans’ frontiers. He recognized the small figurines off to one side of the table. He raised his eyes to look at Ontari who watched him with a pleased smile.  
  
“You will march to Azgeda’s capital tomorrow, King Roan.” She said putting the figurine back on the table and walking a few steps towards the door where she stopped, waiting for him. “Or I will find someone more suitable for the throne of Azgeda.”  
  


* * *

  
The sponge drank the warm water greedily from the basin. Rivulets of liquid fell back in as Octavia raised the sponge and squeezed it slightly.   
  
She raised her eyes to look at Lincoln. They had stripped him off his clothes. His body had shown no other injuries except for the hole on the left side of his head and some old bruises. It had taken a few minutes to be able to look at his body. Abby had explained it to her. But still it was so hard to come to terms with. The part of his body closer to the ground had gained a purple tint. Blood had condensed in those areas. His face and chest were pale. His body was rigid, forcing them to cut his clothes off, which now lied discarded in a heap at the foot of the autopsy bed. They would be burned with him.  
  


* * *

  
Clarke exited the station and as soon as she was a few feet away she took a deep cleansing breath, closing her eyes. The walls in her room had become a suffocating prison, forcing her to flee. She breathed in again and let it out, opening her eyes.  
  
She gazed around her. Guards patrolled the wall, some people busied themselves, other were just resting. A little up ahead sentries were posted at the gate. She should feel safe. She should feel relieved. She was home once more.   
  
But it wasn’t home. It felt alien to her.   
  
A crowd got her attention. Off to the left, people had gathered around to see Argus and some of his people build a funeral pyre. Very similar to the one built for Finn. She moved closer, ignoring some curious looks directed at her.  
  
Argus stood inside the circle as he gave instructions to another Grounder.  
  
“Let’s keep going. We don’t have much time.” Clarke heard him saying.  
  
The Grounder nodded and left.  
  
Clarke came to stand beside him. Argus did not look her way.  
  
“ _Wanheda_ ,” he said formally.  
  
Clarke frowned at hearing the name. “Any problems?”  
  
“With your people?” He stole a glance at the crowd who kept a distance. The construction had garnered some attention. “None so far. Thanks to them,” he said gesturing towards the six guards who watched from a few yards away.   
  
Clarke watched as a couple of Grounders secured a log into position. Off to one side, a heap of leaves and branches lay nearby. They would serve to support Lincoln’s body on top of the pyre.  
  
Clarke spotted Bellamy at the other side of the small clearing, watching them, half-hiding inside a small group.  
  
“He’s been watching for some time,” Argus said.   
  
Clarke chose to ignore the comment. She didn’t want to deal with him. She turned away so she wouldn’t have to see Bellamy and found herself looking at the gates. She leaned closer to Argus.  
  
“Has she come back?” she asked him in a low voice.  
  
“No, _Wanheda_.”  
  
Clarke glanced at the sky. It was getting dark.  
  
“She’ll be back,” Argus said softly, stealing a glance at her.  
  
“What if she doesn’t?” she murmured.  
  
Argus shot a look at her. “ _Lexa kom Trikru_ will never back down.”  
  
Clarke heard a tone of pride in his voice that made her feel chastised. She gave him a slight nod, conceding. “I hope so.” But her eyes flicked to the gates. And her mind kept conjuring up images of Lexa riding away. She knew it was illogical. But she couldn’t stop recalling the expression of despondency she had seen on Lexa’s face.  
  
She moved away. She needed time to think. She walked through the group of people observing the construction and walked away from prying eyes.  
  
' _She also betrayed you, us, at Mount Weather_.'  
  
Her mother’s words kept ringing in her head like an incessant drill. She knew her mother was right to doubt Lexa’s support. Up until a few days ago she would have done the exact same thing. But Lexa had changed her mind. She had taken a huge political gamble changing Grounder’s policy. Clarke had understood her reasons. Or had she? But that Lexa was gone. It was not the same woman she had talked to in the forest. And she wasn’t sure anymore. She had to plan for the worse. She had to help her people with or without Lexa. And she hated herself for that.  
  
She came to stand at a distance from the pyre, away from inquiring eyes. Just watching the Grounders working together.  
  
Lexa would have ended in one exactly like that.  
  
She shook her head and averted her eyes. The last thing she needed was for more morose thoughts.  
  
She heard footsteps approaching and turned around.   
  
“How’s O?” Bellamy asked her, coming to stand a few feet from her.  
  
Clarke did not need this. “What do you think?” she answered. She didn’t have the patience for this. Not now. Her skin crawled just standing next to him. She couldn’t understand how he could have taken part in that. When they were not a threat. Bellamy lowered his head. “You lost Gina a few days ago. How do you feel?”  
  
Bellamy looked up, a mixture of surprise and hurt on his flushed face.   
  
“Only difference is… Octavia is not responsible for Gina’s death,” Clarke said.  
  
“Clarke, come on—” Bellamy pleaded.  
  
“No, you don’t get to do that,” she said. “You have no idea the mess we’re in because of you and Pike.” She knew she wasn’t being fair, that the situation was more complicated than that, but she was done excusing other people for their mistakes and then being blamed for them.  
  
“I made a mistake,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I was wrong.”  
  
Clarke snapped. “Wrong? Wrong!?” She took a step closer to him, furious. “You took part in the massacre of Lexa’s army while they slept. Three hundred people sent to protect you,” she said hotly. “Your sister is in medical mourning the person she loved, who was murdered in cold blood. And her brother, the one who swore to protect her, played a big role in that,” Clarke’s voice was laced in anger. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Bellamy.”  
  
“Clarke, if you just listen—” he pleaded, reaching out.  
  
Clarke spun around to leave but stopped short and turned to face him. “I considered you a friend, Bellamy. Someone I learned to trust. We did not always agree. But I thought we were a team. That I could count on you. ”  
  
“And you can.”  
  
“No. No, I can’t,” she said. “I don’t know who you are.”  
  
Bellamy’s eyes ignited in anger. “So now I’m the one who gets punished for making mistakes?” he said as pain gave way to anger. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong. I’m not allowed try to to make things right?”  
  
Clarke looked at him head to toe. “Own your mistakes, Bellamy. Grow up.” She turned and left.  
  


* * *

  
Octavia placed the sponge on Lincoln’s chest and wiped it slowly across, cleaning the dirt. She remembered falling asleep, her head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating in her ear. His laughter rumbling in his chest as she tickled him. How safe she felt in his arms. Cherished. Loved.  
  
She spied a glance at Nyko who was at Lincoln’s feet, working with another sponge. They hadn’t spoken a word since they had begun washing his body. He had explained the process before getting started. Now, the pain hung so heavily in the air neither of them had the strength to break the silence, finding a strange soothing comfort in each other’s presence. The silence was only broken by the sloshing of the water as the sponges drank, the dripping sound as they squeezed the sponges in the basins, the ruffle of their bodies as the moved around…  
  
She finished cleaning his chest. She took a clean cloth from a nearby tray and set to dry his skin, making sure to wipe our every drop of water from his body. Her eyes traveled down his arm to his right hand and his fingers. Stiff, cold, lifeless.  
  
She stopped for a second, taking in the scene, as if waiting for the nightmare to vanish at any moment. Waiting to wake up next to him. Tears threatened to burn her eyes once again. She caught herself in time. She gritted her teeth and kept going.  
  


* * *

  
He could have gone back to the cafeteria, seek refuge with some familiar faces but here he was instead, watching how Grounders built a pyre.  
  
White puffs came out of their mouths with their exertion. Their faces shone with sweat while they moved methodically. The tall Grounder who had accompanied Clarke was directing them. He seemed to hold a higher status among them.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy glimpsed a woman carrying a tray with steaming cups and some bread. She walked up to Clarke’s Grounder.  
  
They talked briefly and a few moments later. The woman lifted the tray in offering but the Grounder seemed reluctant to try it out. The woman insisted again. He took a cup, held it between his hands, soaking its warmth, and took a tentative sip. He bowed his head and smiled. A genuine warm smile.   
  
The woman returned the smile and proceeded to offer the other four Grounders some food.  
  
Two men from the station stepped forward. They picked up a log and carried it near the pyre. A few moments later, another man and a woman joined them.  
  
Bellamy gritted her teeth and stepped forward. He headed over to a log and helped another Arker to carry it to the pyre. When they reached the construction, a Grounder stopped them. A woman. Lincoln’s friend.  
  
“ _Ripa nou ge teik in hir,_ ” the Grounder said with a derisive tone.  
  
Bellamy looked her. He could sense it was nothing good. The Grounder invaded his personal space, daring him.   
  
“Murderers are not welcome here,” she repeated with a thick accent.  
  
Bellamy raised his hands in peace. “Look, I just wanna help, okay?”  
  
The woman wouldn’t back down. She pushed him away.  
  
“Enera,” a warning voice was heard from a short distance.  
  
Bellamy turned his head to look at their leader coming towards them. The woman had stopped but was shooting daggers at Bellamy.  
  
“Let him go, Enera,” Argus said. The woman did not move away. “Now.”  
  
“ _Sha_ , Argus,” the woman said after a moment. She snarled at Bellamy as she turned away.  
  
Argus looked at Bellamy.  
  
“I don’t want to cause any problems. Name’s Bel—”  
  
“I know who you are.”  
  
Bellamy stood still for a second. “Look, I am only trying to help,” he said. He was not going to back down now. He wasn’t going to beg either. He had made a decision and was determined to see it through.  
  
Argus looked at him, studying him, sizing him up. The silence made Bellamy squirm but he held the stare.  
  
Argus gave him a slight nod. “ _Kei._ ”   
  
As Argus turned around, Bellamy searched his mind for the word. “ _Mochof_ ,” he said.  
  
Argus half turned to look at him and then kept walking away, saying something to his people. They cast some curious glances towards him.  
  
Bellamy saw Erena stalking over to the logs. He walked with purpose towards her.  
  
The Grounder’s eyes flashed in anger and hatred but kept her composure when she saw Bellamy at the other end of the log. Bellamy gave her a curt nod, grabbed the log firmly and waited for her.  
  
The Grounder gritted her teeth. “ _Won, tu en thri,_ ” Enera said slowly enunciating the words. Bellamy understood the almost universal count and on “three” he lifted the log.  
  


* * *

  
Sinclair was bent over his desk, a magnifying lens stood in front of him. His whole being focused on the object he was manipulating.   
  
He carefully moved the electric torch over to the tiny wire that he had managed to repair. The wire melted to the device with a low hiss and a small flash of light. A puff of smoke billowed up right in front of him. He didn’t wince, used to the acrid smell long before they even set foot on Earth.  
  
A knock on the door made him jump. He turned to look. Kane stood on the threshold. Sinclair let out his breath, in relief.  
  
“Progress?” Kane asked.  
  
He glanced back to the wristband. “I believe so. Yes.” He gesture with this head to another wristband lying nearby. “I could only fix these two. They did a good job on them. I’m already modifying this one with Raven’s schematics.”  
  
Kane walked up to stand next to the table. “How soon can we try?”  
  
Sinclair took in Kane’s grave expression. “Something wrong?”  
  
Kane found a chair and sat down. “We’ve had five, no six, incidents with Farm Station people so far today. Picking fights. I’ve reschedule the security shifts so they don’t have access to weapons,” he said with a tired sigh. “We’ll have Lincoln’s funeral ceremony at sundown. I don’t want anyone going off.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and fixing Sinclair with a stare. “I need those wristbands ready as soon as you can.”  
  
“You think changing the shifts will solve it?”   
  
Kane got up. “No. But talking to the one responsible for them might,” he said as he walked out the door. “I want those wristbands.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translation:
> 
> Pro - You're welcome.  
> Mochof -- Thanks.  
> Heda kom Az -- Commander of the Ice.  
> Ripa nou ge teik in hir -- murderers are not welcome here.  
> Kei -- Okay.  
> Won, tu en thri -- One, two and three.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, new chapter is out! And I'm halfway writing the next one.
> 
> Comments are always welcome.

“I am no longer responsible for keeping peace here,… chancellor,” Pike said with a glint of defiance in his eyes. He tilted his chin up. “It’s your job now.”  
  
Pike stood near the door. His back straigh, stance wide, and a cocky smirk on his lips. Clarke clenched her teeth as the man responsible for the mass execution of Lexa’s army challenged them. She had agreed with Kane’s decision but her stomach roiled at the thought of letting him free. Still, he was right. They couldn’t fight multiple fronts at once. Not while ALIE continued to be a threat inside their walls and Ontari was still Heda.  
  
“Call your people off, Pike,” Kane said again.  
  
“My people are doing what they think is within their right. They’re fighting for justice.”  
  
“Your people are picking up fights,” Clarke said.  
  
“They’re showing their disagreement. You want to fix this?” he said as his gaze flicked from Clarke to Kane. “Resign, free my people and hold another election.”  
  
“That can’t be,” Kane said.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“We’re on the brink of war, Charles. We need to focus on the alliance.”  
  
Pike scoffed. “What alliance?” His eyes flicked back to Clarke. “Lexa’s been deposed.” Clarke slightly jerked her head towards Kane before she could catch herself. She clenched her jaw as she fixed Pike with a hard stare. “News travels fast. Let them kill each other.”  
  
“Is that your answer?” Clarke said, sarcastic.  
  
“Clarke—” Kane warned.  
  
“Did the news about the chips ever reach you?” Clarke asked.  
  
“Chips? What chips?”  
  
“And what about ALIE?”   
  
“Who’s Allie? What are you talking about?” Pike said.  
  
Clarke threw a small object on Kane’s desk, towards Pike. It clinked and bounced a few times before landing close to him. “Have you seen this before?” Clarke asked.  
  
Pike moved closer to the desk and glanced down. He did recognize it. “What does it have to do with anything?”  
  
“Have you seen it before?”  
  
Pike frowned, puzzled, as he studied the small object. He had held it in his hand not long ago. He then searched in his pocket, pulling his key, letting it fall next to Clarke’s.  
  
Clarke felt her stomach drop into an abyss. A cold shiver ran up her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest as she thought of how far ALIE’s influence could reach in the camp, of how many more people were chipped that they didn’t know about. Yet this time, she managed to keep a stoic mask. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kane gritting his teeth, keeping his eyes fixed on Pike.   
  
“How did you get it?” Kane asked.  
  
“What is it?” Pike said.  
  
“Who gave it to you?” Clarke said with a cold tone.   
  
Pike looked at her, perplexed. “Jaha.” He shifted his weight, uneasy, looking at Kane. “What is this all about?”   
  
“What did he tell you?” Kane said. “This is important, Pike.”  
  
Pike tried to remember. “He said the chip would take away all the pain. Spoke of a strange place. Something about a city of light. A place where we wouldn’t need anything,” he said. “I thought he’d just lost it.”  
  
“The City of Light is real,” Clarke said.   
  
“What? You’re kidding me,” Pike chuckled, his gaze going from Clarke to Kane. He hadn’t bought any of the crap Jaha had told him. He had learned the hard way not to trust the man. His tale was too farfetched.  
  
Clarke kept her stare on him. Pike returned it with one of his own as he waited for the other shoe to drop. When none came, he took a quick glance at Kane who had the same serious expression. It hit him then. This was no joke. His smile faded into a worried grimace.  
  
“What this, city of light, is exactly…”  
  
“It is a sort of virtual world created by an artificial intelligence called ALIE. Jaha has been distributing those chips around the station.”  
  
“A virtual world? B—but… How?” he asked. “Is that even possible?” Pike looked at her dumbfounded.   
  
“We’re not exatly sure. We do know it takes away people’s painful memories and their free will,” Kane explained.  
  
“You’re not making any sense,” Pike said, shaking his head. Then, his eyes lit up as an idea struck him. “What are you really playing at… Chancellor?”  
  
“I have thirty four people in a store room who have taken those keys.” Kane shifted his weight. “Twelve of them are from Farm Station. Your people.”  
  
“No,” Pike stared at them. “No,” he said again with a shake of his head. “They’re tough people. They’re survivors,” he said with certainty. “We’ve been hunted, starved, poisoned. But we made it here.” Clarke and Kane remained silent. “They wouldn’t take those pills,” he said. He knew his people, he kept thinking. No way they would do that. Would they? “We’ve fought so hard. We’ve lost so many,” he whispered. “We’ve got a chance now. Throwing it away…”  
  
“Pike,” Clarke said.  
  
“So, give them something to get rid of it—”  
  
“We don’t know how those pills work… exactly,” Clarke said. “That’s why the fights have to stop.”  
  
“What does one thing have to do with the other?”  
  
“There are more people chipped. People we don’t know of,” Clarke said.   
  
“And they’re making more keys,” Kane said.  
  
“And they will get high,” he said with a shrug. They had had the same problem up at the Ark. “It’s not new—“  
  
“It is not a drug, Pike,” Clarke said. “ALIE controls them. ALIE forced Raven to try to kill herself after taking the chip. She’s under sedation in medical. Jackson attacked me when he and Jaha held my mother hostage,” Clarke said, rounding the table to face Pike. “She controls anyone who has taken one of those,” she said pointing at the keys on the table. She stopped a few feet away from Pike. “You’re worried about who gets to be the chancellor? Worry about ALIE because, if we don’t stop her, she will take over the station. As for the Grounders? Trust me, right now, ALIE is a bigger threat than all Grounder armies combined.”  
  
Pike took in Clarke’s determined expression as the implications of such theory played in his mind. Someone controlling people’s minds. Capable of making you try to kill yourself. Of turning one against the other. It still sounded too farfetched. But if it were true… Pike’s eyes flicked from the keys to Kane and her.  
  
He folded his arms across his chest. “So you want me to call off the fights to do what exactly?”   
  
“We have a plan,” Kane said. “But we have to be prepared should Grounders attack—”  
  
“That’s why we have to show them who we are,” Pike said. “We have to fight—”  
  
“That is not an option,” Kane cut him off. “If we don’t deal with this AI first, there won’t be anyone left to defend Arkadia. There won’t be anyone of us left,” he continued. He fixed Pike with a pointed look. “No one can know about this, Charles. The less people know about it, the better our chances at defeating ALIE.”  
  
“I’ve heard that before,” Pike said as he paced away. The conversation in the Ark of so many months ago replayed in his mind. He had agreed to train them. He’d really had no choice in the matter. But the deception had weighed heavily on him. Having to be so hard on them without an explanation. Until he lost control. He hadn’t forgotten the incident with Murphy.  
  
“If we don’t neutralize this AI, it’s over. For us and for everyone else,” Kane said looking at him straight in the eye.  
  
Pike bowed his head and turned away from them. He had made the mistake once of being too trusting. They came with a similar tale. That they were running out of oxigen so they were sending the delinquents down to find out if the Earth was habitable. That it was a desperate situation. That he couldn’t say anything.  
  
He rubbed his temples. If those kids would’ve known the dangers they would’ve taken his teachings more seriously. More people would’ve survived.   
  
If Kane didn’t want to tell his people, fine. But he was going to give his every chance to survive. He turned to face them.  “What do my people and I get in return?”  
  
“A fair trial,” Kane said.  
  
Pike scoffed at the suggestion. “I want guarantees my people will not be punished.”  
  
“I think you’re going too—“  
  
“—Exile.” Clarke hoped she could convince Lexa or whoever led the Grounders to go with the idea. She hoped Kane did not oppose.  
  
A surprised Pike turned to Kane for confirmation. Kane didn’t say anything.   
  
“Exile?” he repeated as if weighing the words in his mind.  
  
“Safe passage through Grounder territory for your people in exchange for your help until ALIE and the war are over,” Clarke said with determination.  
  
“So if we survive, we can get killed later?”  
  
“I think exile is a pretty good offer,” Clarke said. “If we pull this off, Grounders will demand justice—”  
  
“You mean vengeance.”  
  
“You murdered three hundred warriors in an unprovoked attack,” Kane said. “And—”  
  
“It was them or us.”  
  
“—executed Lincoln.”  
  
“And I would have executed you had you not escaped,” Pike snapped. “I spared the rest,” he said in a softer tone.  
  
Clarke had had enough. “If you stay here, sooner or later, a Grounder will take justice into their own hands,” Clarke said. She stepped closer, getting almost into his personal space. “And believe me,” she said lowering her voice, “if it’s up to me, I won’t stop them. With exile, you and your people have a chance to start again somewhere else.” She let the words sink in and fixed him with a hard stare. “This is your best option.”  
  
Pike eyed her, skeptical. “But once outside Grounder territory, we’re fair game. Is that it?”  
  
“It’s your call,” Clarke said with a shrug, moving away a few feet. “But it’s the best offer you’re going to get. It’s your decision. Make it now.”  
  
“And if I decide to not help?”  
  
“You will go to trial. Along with the people who took part in the massacre. Only those who agree to help in the civil war will have a chance at exile,” Kane said.   
  
“I am sure someone will take the chance to start over in another place rather than spending the rest of their lives in a cell,” Clarke said, “or risk getting killed by Grounders.”  
  
Pike shot her a look. She could see the wheels turning in his head. But she was determined to take advantage of his professed dedication to his people.  
  
Distant voices reached them through the door. Someone had stopped just outside. Security was probably checking them.  
  
Pike let out a soft sigh, lowering his head. He gave a firm nod. “Okay. We will help. But I want guarantees.”  
  
A knock sounded on the door.  
  
“And you’ll have them,” Clarke bluffed.  
  
“Come in,” Kane said.  
  
A harried looking guard stepped in. “Chancellor, the Doctor says she’s waking up.”  
  
Clarke exchanged a look of dread with Kane. “She wasn’t supposed to. Not yet.”  
  
“I’ll get Sinclair, you go to medical,” he said getting his gun.  
  
Clarke nodded, walking to the door. “You want to know what we’re really up against, Pike? Come with me,” she said over her shoulder.  
  
Pike shot a look at Kane and followed her.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Lexa dismounted her horse and handed the reins over to Danae. She schooled her features. She was cold, tired and the turmoil inside hadn’t abated one bit, but to her people she had to appear as collected and calm as she could possibly be.    
  
She palmed her mare on the neck and strode towards the pyre.  
  
A crowd had gathered watching her people prepare. For a moment her mind came up blank. No Grounder had died during the attack on Arkadia. Then it hit her. Lincoln. Octavia’s mate. Murdered.  
  
Her eyes searched for Argus. Soon enough, she found him off to one side of the pyre, explaining something to a couple of people.   
  
Argus raised his head to look around and found her looking at him. He murmured a few words to excuse himself and headed over to her.  
  
Lexa took the opportunity to watch the scene before her. Skaikru and Grounders working together. The pyre would be finished before nightfall. Just in time. One Skaikru got her attention. Her blood rushed in her ears and her stomach coiled in rage. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming herself.  
  
Argus reached her. “ _Heda_ ,” he said with a slight bow.  
  
“Lincoln’s?”  
  
“ _Sha_. It will be ready for nightfall.”  
  
Lexa kept her gaze on Bellamy. Argus followed her look.   
  
“He offered to help.” Lexa shot a look at him. “A woman brought us hot soup too. They’ve helped in some way.”  
  
“I see,” she answered noncommittally. Her gaze fixed again on Bellamy. She had to summon all her self-control not to run that man’s life right there. Blood must have blood. Images came unbidden: her defeated army, bodies sprawled over the camp, the ground painted in red, the coppery smell of blood permeating the air, Indra lying outisde the tent with the bullet wound still oozing blood. ‘Ai nou get in taim oso na taik emo fayogon daun’ (I don’t know if we can beat their guns) Looking away from Bellamy, she took off her gloves. “Have you seen Clarke?”  
  
“Last time I saw her she was in their healer’s quarters.”  
  
Lexa assented and stole a glance at the group. She should feel happy that they were able to put their differences aside and work together. But the pyre was a perfect example of the bad blood between both their peoples. Of everything that could go wrong.  
  
“Let me know when everything is ready,” she ordered.  
  
“ _Sha, Heda_.”   
  
Lexa controlled her body language to not react to the title. She shot a look at Argus who held her stare. If she didn’t know better she would be willing to believe he was daring her to contradict him. But she only saw respect and pride in his eyes. She busied herself folding the gloves and clutching them in one hand. “Good,” Lexa said, turning towards the station’s main door.  
  
Maybe Clarke was right.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
Miller put down a glass in front of Monty. “Here, drink this.”   
  
Monty raised his head. “Thanks.”  
  
“At least we should celebrate we’re still here, huh?” Miller said as he sat down next to Brian, slightly leaning against him for a moment.  
  
Murphy watched, bemused, with a slight smirk curving his lips, at the display. The cafeteria was in a lull period. A welcoming occurrence since the showdown that morning. “Any excuse to drink is good enough for me,” he said raising his glass.  
  
Bryan laughed. “What? That little trip with Jaha was no fun?”  
  
Murphy shifted uncomfortable in his seat. A sardonic smile appeared on his face, hiding his unease.   
  
“Must have been,” Miller said with a dark expression. “Only Jaha and Murphy survived.”  
  
“And it seems Jaha has lost it.”  
  
Murphy shot a glance at Bryan. “Why you say that?”  
  
“Come on, people talk, you know?” he said with a shrug. “Rumors,” he said leaning forward. “He’s this sort of visionary.”  
  
“Among other things,” Murphy quipped as he gulped down his drink. He would have gone more with bastard and son of a bitch.   
  
“So, is it true?” Monty asked, curious.  
  
Murphy looked at the group, gaging their faces. He had a good story. They seemed genuinely interested. And, damn, did he have a good one.  
  
He looked around him. Only a few people were in the cafeteria. A group of four people had picked some hot beverages and were heading in their direction. They sat down at a nearby table, casting annoyed glances in their direction.  
  
Murphy shook his head. Yep. Nothing had changed here.  
  
“Murphy?” Bryan prompted him. “Is it true? You came with Clarke but… Is it true? About that new city?”  
  
“What?” Murphy said. “Who told you?”  
  
“Helen.”  
  
“Wait, Helen Foster?” Monty asked. Bryan nodded. “She’s from Farm Station.”  
  
“Yeah,” Bryan said. “Someone told her as if it were this big secret. A city ready for us. With everything you could think of. And no Grounders.”  
  
“Hey, sign me up for that,” Miller said, raising his glass. “Anything to get away from them and fighting.”  
  
Murphy gave him a look. For some reason the “no Grounders” comment had annoyed him. And it shouldn’t. He still had the bruises to show for his experience with them. Emori’s face popped up in his mind.   
  
“They’re not that different,” he muttered staring at his glass. He raised his head and found all three of them staring back at him. “They’re not. Really,” he started but stopped for a second. “Okay, maybe they are a bit different.”  
  
“A bit?” Monty said.  
  
“More like, nothing in common,” Bryan added.  
  
Murphy studied them. He didn’t need their attention. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want the questions. Still…  
  
He glanced around. Everyone was minding their own business. The people at the nearby table were talking in hushed voices. He leaned over the table. “Their first commander was one of us.”  
  
Their faces went blank for a second. Murphy could almost swear they had stopped breathing for a moment. Their jaws had gone slack in surprise. Eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.  
  
Bryan burst out laughing. A few curious or annoyed glances  were directed at them. “Come on, Murphy. Jaha has gotten to you head too?” he said, with a snicker, lowering his voice.  
  
Monty and Miller chuckled softly.  
  
“Their first commander was a scientist. She escaped from one of the stations to come down here.”  
  
“So, she became what? Their savior?”  
  
“In a way,” Murphy said, shifting in his chair.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The guards stepped aside as Clarke burst in medical followed by Pike.   
  
Raven was sitting up with her back ramrod straight. Her arms were slightly bent as the bonds didn’t allow her to move much. She was frowning at Abby as the doctor finished checking up the straps and got up. Abby noticed Clarke by the door and made a small gesture with her head. Their last conversation still weighed heavily between them.  
  
“Is this really necessary?” Raven said tugging at the strains.   
  
“For now, yes,” Abby said as she stole a meaningful glance at Clarke. Her mother went over to a cabinet to fetch something.  
  
Clarke watched Raven as she tried the strains once more. They weren’t completely tight, allowing for certain movement, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Raven tugged at the straps on her feet, testing them.  
  
“Stay here,” she said in a low voice to Pike without turning her head as she slowly approached the bed.   
  
“She’s way more scary now,” Jasper said with apprehension from a nearby bed.  
  
Clarke looked at him. Jasper was bouncing his right knee. She was willing to bet he wasn’t even aware of it. She tried to give him a reassuring smile but she was fairly certain it must had come out as a grimace.   
  
Her mother returned to Jasper’s bed and left a tray on the night table, between his bed and Raven’s.  
  
“They’re coming,” she said to her mother.   
  
“Good.”  
  
Raven turned to Clarke as if she had just noticed her presence and gave her a relieved smile. “Clarke, you’ve come to help me.”  
  
Clarke hesitated for a second. Raven sounded like herself once more but her whole demeanor was all wrong. She glanced at her mother for a second before answering. “Yes.”  
  
“Good. Then untie me,” she said tugging at the bonds.   
  
“I am sorry, Raven. I can’t do—”  
  
“Then why the hell are you here?” Raven’s brow furrowed.   
  
“Raven,” Jasper said.  
  
Raven glared at Jasper. “Raven what?”  
  
“She is trying to help. We all are.”  
  
“Yeah. Clarke is always trying to help. Because you’re too much of a coward to help anyone, aren’t you?” Raven cocked her head.  
  
Jasper flinched at the harsh words.  
  
“It’s not her,” Abby said.  
  
“You couldn’t help Maya. You didn’t save her. Poor, poor Maya.” Pain flashed in Jasper’s eyes. “You’ve been whining ever since.”  
  
“Don’t listen to her, Jasper,” Abby said.  
  
Jasper glanced at the doctor but his eyes shone with raw pain and shame.  
  
“Yes, poor Jasper. Let’s coddle him. Let’s pity him because he can’t handle losing someone.” Raven’s voice dripped with sarcastic venom. “We all have lost someone, Jasper. Do you see us moping around? Getting drunk and wallowing in our misery?”  
  
“No, you took a pill to forget all that,” Jasper shot back getting up from the bed, pointing at her in accusation.   
  
“Jasper,” Clarke warned him.  
  
Abby placed a calming hand on his shoulder.  
  
“At least I did something. You just expect everyone to pander to you. But you lost Maya,” she said with a mocking whining voice. “You were incapable to save her. You—”  
  
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Jasper lunged at her but Abby got in the middle and used her body as a shield.  
  
“Jasper,” she said looking at him in the eye, “out.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Out,” Abby said with more force. “She’ll say anything to throw us off.”  
  
“Mom’s right. She’s trying to rile you up,” Clarke said without taking her eyes off of Raven. “It’s ALIE using Raven.”  
  
Raven gave Clarke a crooked smile. “The savior speaks again.”  
  
Clarke gritted her teeth and ignored the quip. “Go. We’ll take care of Raven,” she said to Jasper.  
  
Abby met his eyes and nodded encouragingly.   
  
“Yes, poor Jasper. He can’t handle the hard stuff. He’s too weak.”  
  
Jasper made his way to the door. Clarke walked with him. “It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered.  
  
Jasper fixed Raven with a withering last glance before walking out.  
  
Clarke noticed Pike was staring at Raven intently. Their eyes met for a second.   
  
“Saving Jasper again. Clarke, the hero.”  
  
“That’s enough.” Clarke turned to face her.  
  
Raven let out a short bitter laugh. “You’re just like your mother. Willing to do anything, to kill anyone, to get her way.”  
  
Clarke could see her mother clenching her jaw in tension. Her eyes darted towards her but she avoided looking at her, fixing  her focus on Raven instead.  
  
“All done to save your people, isn’t it? Even if you have to kill your own husband because he didn’t want to shut up.”  
  
For an instant, Abby’s eyes flicked hesitantly towards Clarke.  
  
“I said that’s enough,” Clarke said in a low menacing voice. Clarke’s heart ached, remembering the moment she found out about her father. Her mother’s pleas to listen to her, to understand her.  
  
“But then, that’s the price to pay if you want to be chancellor. No matter what the cost. Or who pays for it. Right Pike?” Raven said tilting her head to look at him.  
  
Pike shifted his weigh, uncomfortable at the sudden attention but curious as to where it might lead. “You tell me.”  
  
“You got tired of following orders so now you want to give them. You think you know better. But you are just like them,” she said gesturing with her head towards Abby. “Just as manipulative. Like when you taught them survival skills without telling the truth. Oh, but those skills came in handy when the Azgeda started killing your people.”   
  
Pike shot a concerned glance at Clarke who gave him a very subtle shake of her head.  
  
“But you had to be in control. You knew better. And where are your people, Pike?” A soft cruel smile curved Raven’s lips. “Dead. But who cares? Grounders will pay for it. For your mistakes.”  
  
Pike opened his mouth to argue.   
  
“Don’t,” Clarke warned. “Whatever Raven sees or hears, ALIE knows. You will be giving her information.”  
  
Raven smiled slyly and turned to Clarke. “You can’t save everyone, Clarke. Not even your mother. And why would you want to?” Raven’s gaze went from Clarke to Abby and back. “She didn’t go looking for you when you ran away, did she? She never bothered to check if you were alive or dead,” she said as she tsk-tsked in fake disapproval. “And, she did kill your father. How does that feel? Knowing your mother killed your father? As bad as killing Finn was?”  
  
“It’s not gonna work,” Clarke said with a hint of defiance as she ground her teeth.  
  
Raven smiled as if she smelled blood. “Maybe it is us who need saving from you.”  
  
“Is it going to take them long?” Pike asked Clarke.  
  
Clarke shook her head.  
  
“My, my… we’re scheming.” Raven looked from one to the other. “Trying to save the world again, Clarke? You will fail. Like you failed when you tried to save your father. When you saved Finn. Tell me, what does it feel to have blood in your hands? What’s it like to kill a friend? What does it feel to kill three hundred innocent people in Mount Weather?”  
  
Clarke swallowed hard. Her eyes stung. A crack in her armor.  
  
“It’s not her, Clarke,” Abby repeated with a strained voice.  
  
“Women, innocent kids. You’re worse than Pike,” she said. “You bring death with you. The mighty _Wanheda_. Who is next, Clarke?” Clarke winced, the muscles of her neck standing out as she tried to not take the bait. Raven cocked her head as if entertaining an interesting thought and looked pointedly at her. “Lexa?”  
  
Clarke subtly jerked her head and inhaled softly. Her eyes darted to her mother and back to Raven. “Shut up.”  
  
“Ah… I struck a nerve there,” Raven said tilting her head. Her mouth curved in a sly smirk. “Why? Is she special, Clarke?”  
  
Clarke tried to remain impassive. She noticed her mother looking intently at her.  
  
“Is she a _friend_ like Finn?” Raven had a smug smile on her face. She was enjoying this. “Are you going to save her the same way you saved Finn?”  
  
The image of her interlaced hands on Lexa’s chest as she pumped her heart trying to revive her flashed right before her eyes. Lexa’s ribcage caving under her frantic pushes hoping to keep her alive. “Shut up, you bitch!” Clarke stalked towards Raven.  
  
“Clarke.” Pike grabbed Clarke by an arm, holding her back.  
  
Raven gave her a satisfied smile.   
  
“Step aside,” Kane’s voice reached them.  
  
“Sir,” a guard answered in the hallway.  
  
Kane entered with Sinclair, carrying a small bag. Sinclair rushed over to Abby on the adjacent bed and left a bag on it. “I could only repair two,” he said in a low voice. His eyes darted from Abby to Raven and back.  
  
“We’re ready,” Kane said to Clarke and Pike.  
  
Raven fell silent, watching Sinclair as he opened the bag and took something out. She craned her neck to try to get a glimpse.  
  
ALIE walked around the bed and studied the object. “They have a wristband,” ALIE announced, cocking her head as she watched  Sinclair manipulate the object. “They may have found a way,” she said as she glanced at Raven. “Try to break free, Raven. Help is on the way.”  
  
Sinclair turned around and put the wristband on Raven’s bed, near the bond that held her arms.   
  
Softening her features, Raven’s body sagged suddenly. “Let me go, please,” she pleaded to Clarke.  
  
Clarke was taken aback at the sudden change but she ignored her.   
  
“Please,” she begged. Her gaze swept over them, looking for someone who would listen to her. “I am fine now. See? Please.”  
  
Sinclair and Abby worked in tandem to keep Raven’s left arm strapped to the bed. As in silent agreement, they both avoided looking at the young woman.   
  
Raven watched them. As soon as she felt the bond come slightly loose, she jerked her arm, trying to break free. Abby held her arm to the bed.  
  
“Sinclair, let me go,” she said.  
  
The man glanced sideways at her but kept working.   
  
Raven’s frown burrowed. Sinclair was struggling with the wristband. Raven kicked her legs and shook her arms. Her movements growing more desperate. The bonds kept her locked. Abby held her left arm, her fingers digging into her skin. “Sinclair, please. Don’t do this. She will kill me.”  
  
Sinclair hesitated.  
  
“Don’t listen to her. She is lying,” Abby said to him.  
  
“I am not lying. Please,” she begged, voice cracking. “If you do this she’ll kill me.” She turned to look at Clarke and Kane. “Please, I promise you. I can control her. Please, let me go.”   
  
Abby removed the gauze that hid Raven’s cut. The stitches were fresh. Abby pursed her lips the cut was red and a bit swollen. There was no sign of infection. The tendons in her wrist stood out as Raven tried to slither her hand away.  
  
Sinclair slipped the wristband around Raven’s wrist.  
  
“Please, don’t. Don’t do this. She’s going to kill me,” Raven begged, growing more frantic, her eyes, brimming with tears, pleaded. “Don’t do it. Please, Abby. Please. She’ll kill me.”  
  
“We’re helping you, Raven,” Abby said.  
  
“Fuck you!” Raven screamed in a spewing rage. “You’ll kill me. She’s gonna kill me!” She slithered up in bed as if trying to escape. Her legs pulled at the bonds as she pushed herself closer to the head board.  
  
“Help me. Hold her down,” Abby yelled over Raven’s screams.  
  
Clarke stepped up and sat down next to Raven. She pushed Raven’s upper body against the bed.  
  
The young woman raised her head. “You are responsible for this, Clarke.” She banged her head against the metallic headboard. The sound made Clarke wince in sympathy. She hadn’t noticed Raven was that close.  
  
Sinclair was fighting the locking mechanism on the wrist that refused to work. “Fucking close, damn it!”   
  
Clarke placed her hand on Raven’s forehead. Raven kept twisting around. The bonds rattled against the bed’s metallic frame. A splotch of red caught Clarke’s attention. Her hand slipped as Raven banged her head again.  
  
“Mom!”  
  
“Hold her, Clarke.” Abby shot her a frantic look.   
  
“I'm trying.” Clarke tried to hold her head but Raven was too strong. Soon, blood stains peppered the pillow.  
  
“Tighter,” Abby yelled.  
  
“This is on you, Clarke,” Raven hissed, as she banged her head repeatedly. Clarke gritted her teeth at the sound.  
  
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.   
  
“Halt,” a voice yelled outside.  
  
Clarke grabbed the pillow under Raven’s head and used it to cushion the blows. Raven didn’t stop.  
  
“Stop where you are,” a guard yelled in the hallway. “Stop now!”  
  
Pike and Kane whirled their heads towards the door. A shot reverberated. Pike rushed outside.  Kane followed.  
  
  
  
The guards were aiming their rifles at three people down the corridor. A fourth lay on the floor. A guard.  
  
One of them picked up the weapon. Pike recognized him. He was one of his people. Ian. A feeling of dread coursed through his veins. What the hell was he doing?  
  
“Ian?” Pike called.  
  
“Put it down, now.” The guard to Pike’s left gave two steps forward. “Put it down or we’ll open fire,” he yelled.  
  
“Don’t shoot,” he yelled at the guards, extending his arms to stop them. “Ian, stand down.” Pike watched with growing alarm. “Now!”   
  
Ian’s face remained impassive and kept moving towards them.   
  
“Drop your weapon.” The guard warned again. “And get on your knees.”  
  
“Ian, put your gun down. That’s an order.”  
  
Ian glanced at his two companions. “This is on you, Charles,” he pointing the gun at Pike.   
  
“Ian!”  
  
The other men charged. Ian fired once. He missed.  
  
A series of rapid shots rang out in the hallway.   
  
Ian fell first. The other two soon followed. Their bodies sprawled on the floor.  
  
Pike rushed to Ian and knelt beside him. A hole in Ian’s upper chest oozed with blood that pumped steadily, staining his shirt. Pike did not to try to put pressure on the wound. Ian had only moments to live.  
  
“They’re dead, sir,” a voice called out.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye Pike watched as one guard secured Ian’s gun. A soft gurgling sound next to him caught Pike’s attention.  
  
Ian was looking at him. His chest rose and deflated in jerky movements, growing shallower with each gasp. The muscles in his neck were taught. The fingers of a listless hand twitched slightly. The man stared at him in a daze. Then Pike saw a flash of recognition in his eyes, then confusion and finally absolute fear. His neck muscles jerked slightly in a dying muscle spasm.  
  
Pike gritted his teeth and made a soothing sound as he saw Ian’s eyes echo his body fighting a hopeless battle. The eyes dimmed and lost focus. The muscles of his head and neck finally relaxed. It was over in seconds.  
  
Pike blinked a few times. His body trembling, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He closed Ian’s eyes with a shaky hand and lowered his head in silent prayer. “Safe passage, my friend,” he murmured.   
  
When he looked up again, he saw the bodies of the other two individuals lying on the floor. ‘ _This is on you, Charles._ ’ He blinked away tears. He noticed Kane watching him from the threshold. He made a gesture at him with his head.   
  
He now understood.  
  
Rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing louder. A Grounder rounded the corner. A woman.  
  
He recognized her. He had seen her one other time.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“It’s more like an AI,” Murphy said.  
  
Monty’s ears perked up. “An AI?” He noticed a woman at the next table shooting them a curious glance. Her attention went to Murphy for a second.  
  
“Yup. Every commander has carried this AI in the back of their necks.”  
  
“So, what does it do?” Brian said.  
  
Murphy leaned back in his chair. “Apparently, save the world from the first AI?”  
  
Monty looked at him quizzically. “First one?”   
  
“There is more than one?” Brian asked.  
  
Murphy froze in his chair, realizing his mistake.  
  
Someone bumped into him. He turned around, annoyed.  
  
“Sorry,” a man said as he sat down at the table.  
  
“It’s ok,” Murphy said. His eyes went to a woman at the other side of the table who was getting up. She met his eyes for a second before moving away.  
  
Murphy cleared his throat and returned his attention to the group.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Clarke struggled to keep Raven’s head still without hurting her. She was straddling Raven’s chest and holding her head with her hands. Her fingers felt sticky with blood as she tried to keep Raven still.  
  
“Fuck.” She heard Sinclair grunt exasperated.  
  
“Let me go. Please!” Raven was still screaming, her face flushed red and sweaty from the exertion. The tendons in her neck stood out.  
  
Raven’s eyes darted to her right side. Towards the door. Clarke followed her gaze and saw Kane coming in. And a moment later, Lexa crossed the threshold. Clarke’s gaze softened. A soft smile curved her lips. She had returned. Lexa’s lips curved in a shy smile. Clarke returned the smile, feeling a wave of relief and happiness.   
  
“Please,” Raven begged. All fight abandoned her. Clarke looked back at a wide-eyed Raven.   
  
ALIE came to stand beside Raven’s bed. Almost next to Clarke. “I have located the second AI,” she said with serene tone. She looked looked around and tilted her head as in thought. She glanced at Raven. “I can’t free you, Raven. I no longer need you. And you know too much. I am sorry.”  
  
“No,” Raven widened her eyes and begged. “No, don’t do it. Please.” She looked at Clarke. “Please, Clarke. She’s going to kill me.” Raven’s tone of voice was different this time. More human. More frantic.  
  
Raven’s body went completely rigid on the bed, like a board. Every single muscle taught.   
  
“Mom?” Clarke jumped out of the bed.  
  
Raven’s breath was coming in short gasps. Eyes open, staring at empty space. Her head snapped back. Muscles in her neck stood out. Feet extended. Back ramrod straight.  
  
“She’s seizing.” Abby said as she jumped to grab a syringes.  
  
Raven started shaking uncontrollably. Her head kept hitting against the headboard. The thin pillow did little to cushion the blows. Clarke put her hand under Raven’s head to protect her. Every time Raven convulsed, her head smashed Clarke’s hand against the headboard, making her wince in pain.  
  
Sinclair snapped the wristband around Raven’s wrist. “Done.”  
  
“Now,” she yelled, removing her hand.  
  
Sinclair pressed a button on the wristband. They heard a short frizzling sound. Raven’s body kept convulsing for a few instants and then collapsed on the bed. Eyes closed. Her head lolled to one side.  
  
“Raven?” Abby called softly. She let the syringe back on the tray.  
  
Raven was too still. Her body drenched in sweat.   
  
“What happened?” Clarke asked.  
  
Abby checked for a pulse. “She’s alive,” she said as her shoulders sagged in relief. “Raven, honey?”  
  
“Then why isn’t she waking up?”   
  
“Raven? Can you hear me?” Abby gave her a light slap on the face. “Come on.”   
  
Raven remained still. Unconscious. Abby’s brow furrowed. Something was amiss. She grabbed the strain’s prong and, holding it firmly between her fingers, she applied pressure on the birth of Raven’s nail in one finger. She watched Raven’s face intently. Nothing. No reaction. She stopped.  
  
“What’s going on?” Clarke said, anxious.  
  
“She’s unresponsive,” Abby said. She pressed the prong firmly again, knowing it would leave a bruise behind. Raven didn’t react.  
  
“She has to wake up,” Clarke said with a weak voice. All they had done was for nothing? The plan didn’t work? She lowered her head and breathed in deeply, feeling a bit dizzy. Her body could not absorb the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Lexa came to stand next to her, placing a comforting hand in the small of her back.  
  
“She’s not responding to pain.” Abby was in full doctor mode. She had no choice. She got up and pressed her thumb against to one side of Raven’s nose bridge, right next to her eye. Abby watched intently as she increased the pressure.  
  
Not a flinch or a sound. Nothing.   
  
“What does it mean?” Clarke felt her stomach plummet. She knew what her mother was doing but a part of her mind refused to consider the possibility.  
  
Abby stood up, her eyes scanning the tray on the night table assessing what she needed. “She hasn’t banged her head that hard. She may be concussed but not so much as to be so unresponsive.” She exhaled a frustrated sigh. “She may have slipped into a coma.”  
  
Clarke snapped her head to look at Raven. Her features had softened and she now looked like the young woman she remembered her to be. Not the sadistic person she had seen a few moments ago. Her chest rose went up and down in a steady quiet rhythm.  
  
“No,” she said shaking her head. “No. You said that if we destroyed the chip she would be free. It was Raven’s idea,” Clarke argued. Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. And coming up empty.  
  
“Honey,” Abby tried to reason with her.  
  
“We’ll get her out,” Sinclair said.  
  
“Maybe there’s something she overlooked,” Clarke said almost to herself. There had to be something they could do. They couldn’t come this close and fail. “Maybe—”  
  
“Clarke,” Lexa said softly behind her.  
  
Clarke turned to her, overwhelmed. Her eyes went to Lexa who watched her with a worried expression. Lexa. Clarke’s eyes lit up.  
  
“Wait. The chip is still inside her, right?” she asked turning around again and looking at Sinclair.  
  
“Ah… yeah,” Sinclair answered dumbfounded.  
  
“I know how to take one out,” she said with determination. “I need a knife or a scalpel.”   
  
Abby frowned. “Clarke—”  
  
“Mom, you have to trust me. I’ve seen this before,” Clarke said with conviction. “Polis,” she muttered, looking at Lexa.  
  
Lexa nodded once. The meaning quite clear.   
  
Abby sighed. She got up, fetched a scalpel, and handed it to Clarke.  
  
“We have to get her on her side,” she said as she knelt down by Raven’s head. “I need to have access to her neck.” Abby and Sinclair rushed to free Raven from the bonds.   
  
Lexa moved closer to Clarke. “How can I help?” Lexa said softly.  
  
Clarke’s eyes warmed. She smiled fondly at her for a moment before her expression grew serious.  
  
“We need to keep her head aligned with her body and then hold her still,” she told Lexa. “In case she wakes.”  
  
“Ready?” Abby asked.  
  
Clarke nodded once. Abby and Sinclair carefully held Raven by the shoulders and hip and pulled her towards them, onto her left side. Lexa rolled Raven’s head along, keeping it aligned with her body. Clarke moved away her hair.   
  
Lexa held Raven’s head firmly while Abby and Sinclair kept Raven’s body still.  
  
Clarke exhaled softly, calming her nerves, and put the blade of the scalpel to Raven’s neck.   
  
“Clarke,” Abby warned her. She went wide-eyed seeing her daughter about to cut Raven’s neck open. “I hope—”  
  
“Mom, I know what I am doing,” she said. “Trust me. I’ve seen this before.”   
  
Abby noticed the look Lexa gave Clarke but she just nodded, accepting her daughter’s words.  
  
Clarke’s heart pounded in her ears. It was just a skin deep cut. Titus hadn’t cut the ligament beneath it. As long as she didn’t nip the ligament and the protective tissue around the vertebrae, Raven would be fine.  
  
Her hand trembled for a moment.   
  
“Do it,” Lexa whispered.  
  
Clarke took a deep breath and made a longitudinal cut along Raven’s nape, about two inches long, much like she had seen Titus perform on Lexa only two days ago.  
  
A blackish red goo oozed out of the wound. Clarke stilled her hand to finish the cut.  
  
She heard a soft intake of breath right next to her. She stole a glance at Lexa. The Grounder swallowed visibly while keeping her gaze focused on Raven’s neck. It looked nothing like the Flame. That shapeless bloody clot was a flame? She noticed Clarke had gone very still. She cast a glance at her. Their eyes met. Clarke’s gaze softened and gave her a encouraging smile.   
  
Noticing her daughter’s interaction with the Grounder,  Abby leaned over to take a look. “What is that?”   
  
“I—I don’t know,” Clarke said, with a nervous shrug. “Whatever’s left of the chip, I guess.”   
  
The goo looked like congealed blood. A glob of about an inch leaked out from the wound. Fresh red blood dribbled out as well.   
  
“Let’s clean it up,” Abby said. She twisted her body to reach the tray, grabbed a sterile gauze and handed it to Clarke.  
  
Clarke pressed it against the back of Raven’s neck, draining the wound. She swapped the gauze twice more to make sure there was nothing left. When she saw that it came up stained in bright red, she relaxed.  
  
“I think everything is out,” she said, with a sigh of relief.  
  
“I’ll stitch her up,” Abby said with a tone that brooked no arguments.  
  
Clarke got up and pulled Lexa with her to let her mother work. Abby began stitching Raven’s neck.  
  
“How do we know it has worked?” Kane asked.  
  
Clarke shook him a dispirited look. “We wait.”  
  
A soft moan came from the bed. Raven tried to move her head away from Abby.   
  
“Stay still,” Abby said. “Hold her,” she asked too focused on her work.  
  
Clarke immediately held Raven’s head still, with care.   
  
Sinclair got up. “She’s waking up.”  
  
Abby shushed Raven softly. “Almost done, Raven,” she said as she gave the last stitch.  
  
“Fuck!” Raven groaned in pain. “You couldn’t have given me something for the pain? That hurts,” Raven said opening her eyes.  
  
Clarke chuckled. “Hey, welcome back,” she said affectionately. Her eyes darted to Lexa as she said the words.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Jaha could hear them whispering from where he sat. The shots they had heard had made everyone nervous. Pike had not returned and their faces had gone from mild concern to outright fear as time went by with no news. And now he had to put up with them. He breathed in slowly, calming his mind, looking for the gate that would lead him to the City of Light while he awaited news.  
  
He heard the ruffling sounds of clothing and the quiet footsteps of one person as they exited the cell.   
  
“He’s fine,” Jaha heard him saying. “I’ll return in a few hours.”  
  
The clank of the metal door closing was now familiar to him. As it was the jiggling of the keys to the cell. And the voices of his jailers.   
  
Jaha kept his eyes closed and smirked. All in due time, he thought. He breathed in once more and when he let it out he opened his eyes.  
  
The cafe was nearly empty which suited him just fine. He sipped his drink, at ease with himself, while he watched the people strolling by, laughing, talking, or sitting at nearby tables enjoying themselves. He noticed a few recent additions to the City’s population. He smiled and, with a hum of satisfaction, turned his attention to the cafe’s gorgeous view of the skyline.  
  
The sun was falling in the city. Reddish orange tones around the setting sun faded into shades of pale blue and violet unlike anything Jaha had seen in space orbiting the Earth and always wondered what it would look like had he been on the surface. It was a spectacle he would never tire from. The city’s lights framed the gorgeous skyline, highlighting the silhouette of the buildings against the darkening sky. It was a stark contrast to the dimly lit cells and the four walls. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the soft breeze. Feeling the cool gentle wind caress his skin. It was his favorite time of the day. It was magic.  
  
He tilted his head at the presence prodding his mind.  
  
“News?”  
  
ALIE sat in the chair next to him.   
  
“I know where the second AI is,” ALIE said. “Someone will be waiting for you tonight with the keymaker and my case.”  
  
“And Raven?”  
  
“You will need help to break free,” she said ignoring his question.   
  
“I know someone who will be willing to help,” he answers.  
  
“Good. Be ready, Thelonious.”  
  
Jaha opened his eyes.   
  
He was back in his cell. He inhaled while stretching his back and stole a glance at Hannah who was watching him with curiosity.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. It's been difficult to write these coming chapters because a lot of things are happening at the same time. Storylines that end. Others are just opening up. 
> 
> Thank you for coming back and stay with this story. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated. Let me know what you think, what you suspect it's going to happen... 
> 
> Trigedasleng translations are at the end.

“ _Nomfa, komir_ ,” the man called with an urgent tone as he hurried over to the blinds of his stall. He flicked a nervous glance to the other end of the street. The guards had just entered.   
  
An eight year old kid stopped playing with a small bow and followed his father’s eyes.  
  
“ _Noni_?”  
  
“ _Gon hou we, nomfa_ ,” he said sternly as he put away his stall. “ _Nou_.”  
  
The kid’s expression grew serious as he opened the door next to the stall and, with a glance at his father, got inside.  
  
The man hastened to close his shop. A few men and women passed by. No words were exchanged. Just an exchange of anxious glances as they rushed to seek shelter in their homes.   
  
As he secured the blinds a young woman walked by and gave him a small courteous nod. The man stared after her for a second before rushing into his home.  
  
No, Taimi thought as she turned the corner and hurried to put some distance between the guards and herself. It was no longer safe to walk the streets of Polis at night. Not even on Ascension day. she hurried to the end next intersection.  
  
A loud crash broke the relative silence in the street.   
  
Taimi stopped in her tracks, pressing her body against a nearby wall, hiding in the shadows. And stayed still. The street was deserted.   
  
Her eyes quickly scanned the street up ahead while her heart seemed to want to race back to the safe house on its own. She drew in a calming breath and waited for a few seconds, not daring to move just yet.  
  
Muffled cries came from somewhere past the intersection, just a couple of dozen yards from her position. Her eyes quickly zeroed in on the house. The second, no, the third house on the right. A sliver of light escaped through the slightly opened door. The door opened and a figure stood on the threshold partially blocking the light.   
  
She waited for a few seconds while her mind frantically searched for a new route. If the Azgeda guards left the house now, they might run into her. The main square was still an option, but the risks were higher and the route longer. It wouldn’t do to linger on the streets. She eyed the intersection warily.  
  
She carefully slid towards the crossing, staying in the shadows, while flicking her gaze towards the door and the lone figure. They were facing into the house.  
  
A woman’s scream echoed in the street but it was cut short by a loud thump. A dog barked as a warning in the distance. The figure at the door turned around, still  hovering in the doorway. Taimi held her breath, her hands trembling against the cold stones. After a few moments, the man turned again, leaning against the doorjamb.   
  
Taimi did not waste any more time. She scurried along using the shadows and turned the next corner. Another scream pierced the silence. A kid’s voice. She stopped and half turned towards the sound, her heart clenching in pain. She closed her eyes. She could help. She opened her eyes and glanced back in the direction of the square. She couldn’t stop. She walked a few steps. Another scream. A bit longer. Her steps faltered. She closed her eyes, bowing her head. There is nothing you can do, she told herself. You can not risk it. Not even for a kid. She gritted her teeth and glanced back for a moment before continuing her way to the square. Her face set in a mask of pained determination.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
A sea of small flickering lights dotted the ground far below her balcony. Fires had been lit to celebrate her ascension. Those fires were only the beginning.  
  
With a contented smile, Ontari returned inside, to the Commander’s quarters — her quarters.   
  
She eyed her attire for the Recitation and hummed in appreciation. Although there hadn’t been any time to get anything better, her new clothes were a far cry from the hand-me-downs outfits she usually wore. She had already ordered to have new clothes made for her, more befitting for someone like her. Someone worthy of sitting on the throne. Her gaze swept over the garment and came to rest on one piece of clothing: the Commander’s sash and shoulder guard. The one that Lexa had worn.  
  
She strolled towards the clothes rack, with a faint satisfied smirk on her face.   
  
The sash represented everything she had fought for, every scar, every injury and every single drop of blood she had endured and shed under Nia’s watchful eyes. She had been trained to exhaustion for this moment: to take over the throne. She had survived. And now, without Queen Nia breathing down her neck, she could do whatever she wanted. She was in control. She was free.   
  
Her fingers caressed the delicate red fabric as she smiled softly. Soon, very soon, everyone would bow to her.  
  
A knock came at the door.  
  
“Enter,” she said turning towards it as she schooled her features into an impenetrable mask.  
  
The guards outside let an old maid in who carried a plate of fruit. The woman bowed meekly to Ontari and awaited for instructions. The doors closed behind her, making the woman jump slightly. Ontari’s eyes glinted in amusement.   
  
“Put it on the table,” she said as she headed to the bathroom. “And help me get dressed.”  
  
“ _Sha_ , Ontar—Heda,” the woman stuttered.  
  
Ontari halted for a second at the maid’s misspoken words. She glared at the woman over her shoulder. The maid carefully left the tray on the table. Her head bowed so as not to meet her eyes. Her body coiled in fear.  
  
Ontari hid a sadistic smirk and disappeared into the bathroom. “Now!”  
  
The old woman hurried after her.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Roan slowed his steps, hiding an increasing wave of distrust, as he approached the door to the throne room. The two burly Azgeda guards posted at the entrance kept a neutral expression. No sign of recognition to his status as king. Before he had a chance to say anything, the men opened the door for him. Roan shot them an annoyed glance as he passed by and stepped inside. The doors closed behind him.  
  
The room was decorated for the occasion. The Azgeda emblem hung from the ceiling in a prominent position, above the throne, reminding everyone of the new order. Subtlety was not one of Ontari’s strengths, Roan thought with disdain. The message was clear to all who came into the throne room. The Coalition was dead to the new Heda. Roan cursed under his breath. He focused his attention to the sitting area. Benches had been lined up in rows forming a corridor that lead up to the throne dais. The seats on the front had the emblem for each clan on the back.  
  
A nervous buzz filled the room. Hushed conversations. A few ambassadors were already there, chatting with each other in small groups. A couple of them stood with a serious expression on their faces as they talked in low voices, stealing nervous glances at him. They avoided his gaze as he walked in. Roan inhaled deeply, relishing in that feeling. Azgeda would rule all the clans tonight. If he could just control Ontari.  
  
The Sangedakru one-armed ambassador broke from a small group and walked up to him with a satisfied smile on his face. Roan couldn’t remember his name but he did recall his clan was among the few who had openly supported Azgeda since the beginning.  
  
“Queen Nia would be proud, King Roan,” the ambassador gushed. “An Azgeda commander at last.”  
  
“Yes,” Roan said with a tight smile as they shook hands.  “I believe she would be…” He let the words hang in the air.  
  
“ _Akil kom Sangedakru_ ,” the man beamed at him. He cast a glance around him and moved closer to Roan. “I just wanted to express my gratitude for your offer to defend our lands, King Roan,” he said, oblivious to the dangerous glint Roan’s eyes took. “ _Gonalida_ Demetrus just told me,” he said as he glanced towards the man on the dais.   
  
Roan followed his gaze. And yes. Demetrus was looking back at them with a sly expression on his face. Roan’s eyes then noticed the people standing next to him. The new Azgeda ambassador and the new Heda’s advisors. Roan clenched his teeth. Demetrus tilted his head in a mocking salute.   
  
“—stress how important your armies will be. The attacks have been—”  
  
“—Excuse me, Ambassador,” Roan muttered, his eyes fixed on Demetrus.  
  
Roan made his way to the dais.   
  
Demetrus made a small gesture with his head towards the Azgeda guards posted at the top of the steps.  
  
The Azgeda warrior closest to Roan planted both feet at shoulder’s length, held his spear firmly and faced him. Roan stopped in his tracks. The message was clear. Try to step on the dais and the warriors will stop you. Walk away and everyone will know that you’ve lost support from your own people.  
  
He glanced at the ambassador who averted his eyes, ignoring his king, while talking in hushed voices with the advisors. The ambassador was someone he had not appointed and, in fact, barely knew. Someone from within Ontari’s circle. He glared at him, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence. A few seconds passed and Demetrus whispered some words to the ambassador while his eyes flicked towards Roan. The man half turned this time, bowed his head slightly and smiled weakly at Roan.   
  
Roan answered him with a predatory smile and a nod of his own. Time would come, he thought as he tried to control the rage that roared inside.    
  
“King Roan, if I may say…” Akil said from behind him.  
  
Roan turned slowly, hiding his annoyance and taking mental note of the affront. He usually couldn’t care less about these things but he was not going to let them sideline him.  
  
“I know we haven’t had a chance to properly talk,” Akil continued. “And I realize you’ve been away from quite some time, King Roan. I would be glad to meet with you to discuss the situation…”  
  
Roan tuned him out as his gaze swept over the throne room. Something was amiss. He counted eight more Azgeda warriors in the room besides the two posted at the throne dais and the door. Their presence was somewhat discreet. Not so much to threaten anyone but to make a statement as to the beginning of a new era. Some servants were busily setting up small tables off to one side with fruit and drinks.   
  
Akil gently guided him towards to sitting area. “They’re venturing farther to the south each time,” Akil complained, “and our armies are too spread out. Your presence will be invaluable.”  
  
Roan went to the Azgeda seat but Akil grabbed his arm gently, barely shaking his head and making a show of leading him to a small group near the door. Akil cleared his throat. “I am afraid the seat is for your ambassador, King Roan,” he said in a low voice.  
  
The man turned his head towards the dais, tilting his chin. Demetrus was looking at them with a curious expression. When their eyes met, the man offered him a taunting smile.   
  
Roan returned the smile with one of his own. Yes, he would have to deal with the obnoxious cocky man. He could not afford this. He wasn’t going to tolerate it.  
  
He let Akil guide him, taking a glance around the room. He whipped his head, a sudden thought crossing his mind. Maybe he was wrong. As Akil started to introduce him, Roan realized there was one person missing. Someone who was supposed to be overseeing everything.  
  
Where was Titus? 

 

* * *

 

  
  
The night breeze gently swayed the decades-old tattered curtains. The moonlight filtered through broken windows, casting the darkened room in dancing shadows.  
  
The room was in shambles. A half-crumbled wall revealed what it had once been two separate rooms. A layer of dust covered the now rundown tile floor. The wind had formed tiny dunes around small debris, scattered throughout the room.  
  
A sliver of tenuous light filtered from beneath the door, growing in intensity. Footsteps echoed outside until shadows formed at the other side of the door.  
  
The door rattled and shook before it surrendered with a groan and opened, bathing the room with a flickering yellowish light. A large person stood on the threshold, holding a crackling oil lamp in front of him.  
  
The Azgeda warrior stepped inside, holding the lamp up high to check the room. Another figure stood in the hallway. Another Azgeda warrior.  
  
The light cast away the shadows for an instant but it revealed nothing. There was no furniture left. Only debris scattered over the floor in random heaps as if someone had grown tired of trying to clean it up. It was just another abandoned room.  
  
“Come on. No one has lived here in ages. Not even the cockroaches remember this place any more,” the guard in the hallway complained as he pointedly glanced down to a bird’s carcass. “Let’s finish the rounds.”  
  
The lead guard huffed in annoyance. But his companion was right. This place had never been inhabited in quite a few years. He gave a quick once-over around the room, turned around and closed the door behind him, leaving the room immersed again in darkness.

 

* * *

 

  
  
A door slammed in the distance.   
  
His eyes opened wide. He remained frozen, holding his breath. Distant footsteps echoed in the corridor.  
  
He glanced at his companion who remained completely still as they listened intently to the sounds coming from the hallway. They were both dressed in black fatigues, their faces painted in black and shades of gray. Only their eyes were visible. The flicker of a candle barely lit their immediate surroundings.   
  
With an imperceptible nod, the Lead Fleimgona sprang into action, hurrying silently over to the door as he drew a knife and held it close to his chest. He pressed his body to the wall, coiled in anticipation. His eyes fixed on the door next to him.  
  
The Lead Fleimgona’s companion shielded the candlelight with two small backpacks and left a satchel on the floor. He quietly came to stand in the center of the room, keeping an eye on him, awaiting for a signal to attack.     
  
The steps grew louder. The Lead Fleimgona gestured. Guards coming from their left. Two of them.  
  
A soft murmur reached to them. The guards were talking. His companion silently stepped closer to the door. His boots barely making any noise until he stepped on broken tiles.   
  
The crack reverberated in the room. The Lead Fleimgona raised his hand in warning. His companion froze on the spot, his face set in stone, his eyes flicked to the door. And they waited.  
  
Nothing. They couldn’t hear anything but their own soft breathing. The murmur was gone.  
  
They had chosen an area of the tower, several floors beneath the commander’s quarters, that would most likely be deserted. They weren’t expecting guards patrolling on their level. The Lead Fleimgona glanced at the door lock. They had blocked it just enough to give the impression it was jammed. It wouldn’t withstand very long if someone decided to bring it down.   
  
He cocked his head, listening. It was very faint. He flicked a glance at his companion. The guards were on the move again.  
  
Soft footsteps echoed in the hallway as the tenuous light filtering beneath the door grew in intensity. They were drawing near. He nodded to his companion who slowly took the sword out of the scabbard and adopted a guard stance.   
  
Their eyes were riveted to the crack under the door, waiting for the shadows that would herald the guards’ presence at the other side.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
An island of tenuous candle light on the farthest part of the room pierced the darkness. It was deathly quiet.   
  
A soft click broke the silence. A dark-robed figure quietly crossed the room. The robes waved around the man’s body, fluttering ever so softly in the silent chamber, as he navigated easily through the dark. His steps barely making a sound. The man approached the flickering light near the mural.  
  
Titus took the hood off and lowered his head in silent prayer. He opened his eyes and knelt. He extended a roll at his side, which would guide him through a ceremony created by his predecessor. A ceremony he knew well for this would be the second time he would carry it out. The first time had been with Commander Connla.  
  
He disrobed his upper body; his skin forming goosebumps in the chilled room. Tattoos mapped his upper chest and back. The tattoos of a Fleimkepa marking his many years of study and dedication. He had a strong willowy body. Not very muscled like some warriors but lithe. Sculpted by endless hours of training, first as a Fleimgona and then in charge of the novitiates’ education. Those who saw him as too much of a scholar or a priest had forgotten he was Heda’s protector for a reason. A mistake they could very well pay with their lives.  
  
Two bowls rested on a slightly elevated position right in front of him. Thin columns of scented smoke billowed up in a lazy dance, filling the area around him with heavy aromas.  
  
He inhaled deeply, the familiar smells soothing his mind, controlling his breathing and the task ahead. He closed his eyes and focused.  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Seconds ticked by as the light grew brighter. Flickering. A crack sounded in the hallway.  
  
The Lead Fleimgona pressed his body to the wall, next to the door, and shot a glance at his companion. They knew the risks of their mission. They couldn’t be found. They couldn’t let the guards give the alarm.  
  
He focused his attention on the door. Waiting as the footsteps grew louder.   
  
Shadows appeared under the door coming to stop right outside.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Lexa felt suffocated. Her gaze swept over the room again. There were no windows. The artificial light gave off a cold glow to the room. Not even her room as a Natblida had been so bleak, so impersonal. Too small for what she was used to. The different areas seemed bunched together. A bed was pushed against the wall on the left side, taking all the space. On the other, with only enough room for the door to open, a chair guarded a chest where she could keep her things. A small desk was pushed against the far wall. A closet stood just to the left of the desk, right next to the bathroom door. Kane had assured her the heating would warm up the room soon. She cast a longing look at the door. She could walk out and set up camp near Arkadia. Like she had done before.  
  
She turned around once more. She let out a sigh. She wouldn’t be staying there long anyway, she reminded herself. Luna should be on her way to their meeting point. Still, the room was better than being camped outside, exposed to Azgeda warriors. And yet, she missed her war tent.  
  
A knock came at the door. She faced it, back straight, hands laced behind her back, and put on her command mask.  
  
“Enter.”  
  
The door opened. Clarke’s head peeked in.  
  
“Can I come in?”   
  
Lexa relaxed her posture, a welcoming smile playing on her lips. It was the first time Clarke had asked for permission. “Please.”  
  
Clarke returned her smile and stepped in, carrying a rolled fabric. They hadn’t been able to talk after Raven had been brought back. And she knew distances had to be kept in front of other people. At least, for now. “It’s taken me a while to find it but I thought this might help you,” she said holding the fabric out.  
  
“Help me?” Lexa said with a puzzled expression.   
  
“Yeah,” Clarke said, feeling unsure for a moment. “A mat. For… for your meditation.”  
  
Lexa took the mat with a shy smile, warmed by Clarke’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks,” she said, holding Clarke’s gaze, eyes shining. Clarke nodded and gave her a hint of a smile. Lexa left the mat on the table at the far end. “You realize you don’t have to have an excuse to see me, right?”  
  
Clarke looked sharply at her. “Yeah. Yes, I know,” she gave her a weak smile. “I just—I just wanted you to feel welcome.”  
  
Lexa nodded as her fingers caressed the rugged fabric. She cast a sideways glance at Clarke and noticed her somewhat rigid stance. The involuntary purse of her lips. “How is your friend?” she asked, turning to face her.  
  
“Fine. She’s back in her room. She refused to stay at medical,” she said.  
  
Lexa nodded. She couldn’t help feel a tension between them. Clarke kept a physical distance. The tension in her shoulders and around her eyes was telling.   
  
Lexa didn’t like how she had reacted in the clearing but she was not used to be feeling so vulnerable. Not used to being so open. Not since Costia. For good reason.  
  
“Clarke,” she started, clearing her throat. “About earlier, in the woods… I’m sorry I—”  
  
“—Don’t,” Clarke said with a shake of her head. “You needed time. I understand. I’m just—” Clarke stopped, unsure. She offered a tentative smile. “I’m glad you came back,” she said. Her eyes shone with warmth.   
  
Lexa’s eyes softened. “Me too,” she whispered with a slight tilt of her head.   
  
Clarke pursed her lips, nodding once, and glanced away for a second, a small crease burrowed her brow. Clarke didn’t approach her but shifted her weight instead. Lexa waited for her.  
  
“Kane has set up rooms for your people. He’ll post security in the hall tonight just in case,” Clarke said. “Anything you need, just tell me.”  
  
“Thank you.” Lexa came to stand near Clarke. “I know my presence can cause some problems for you here.” Clarke opened her mouth but Lexa raised her hand. “And you’ve helped my people,” she continued. “I appreciate that.”  
  
Clarke glanced away for an instant, slightly biting her lip. She had to tell Lexa. To explain it to her. She let out a sigh and focused her attention back on Lexa with a determined expression.  
  
“We’ve released Pike and his people,” she said. She saw Lexa stiffen, her eyes narrowing. Clarke plunged ahead. “I’ve offered them safe passage through Grounder territory in exchange for their help,” she said searching Lexa’s face to reassure her. “They’ll go into exile once this is over.”  
  
Lexa felt her heart constrict and then explode in her chest. She clenched her jaw so hard she was sure Clarke could hear her teeth grinding against each other. She stood tall and tilted her chin up. The commander taking over the young Grounder. She stepped away, needing the distance as she needed air to breathe, turning her back on Clarke. She stayed silent for a moment before turning again, her eyes had gone dark.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Clarke winced. She was back in that war tent all those months ago when they first met. Lexa slipped back into her regal commanding presence flawlessly. The piercing stare, the slight tilt of her head, the slow and deliberate movements of her body. Like a panther stalking its prey. But as she did back then, Clarke stood her ground. She was still convinced she had done what she had to with Pike.  
  
“We need them to fight ALIE and the war,” Clarke said. “We need all the help we can get. Pike’s supporters have been picking fights. We can’t afford a war on two fronts, Lexa. We couldn’t risk it.”  
  
Lexa felt her anger simmering inside, eating at her, as she approached Clarke. “My people won’t stand for this,” she said, biting her words, struggling to keep her voice under control. “They will demand justice.”   
  
“They will demand blood,” Clarke said a bit harsh. She closed her eyes when she saw Lexa’s eyes flash in anger and hurt. She let out a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want to antagonize Lexa but she had done her best. “Right now we need every man and woman we can get on our side.”  
  
Lexa drew up her walls, closing off. “So the death of three hundred warriors will go unanswered because it’s not a priority for you?”  
  
“That’s not it, Lexa.”  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“If we keep him locked up, his people will escalate the fights. My people will not be able to help you if we’re fighting ALIE and Pike’s men.”  
  
“So you want my people to fight this ALIE but you want to deny them justice for the massacre at my camp?”  
  
“No,” Clarke said with determination. “I want Pike to be brought to justice.”  
  
“Then imprison him again or turn him over.”  
  
“I can’t do that,” Clarke said. Her stomach sank as she saw Lexa step away from her. “Lexa, we needed to stop the fights. We need them.” She needed Lexa to understand. “We still don’t know how we can defeat ALIE. Raven has all the clues. We need Arkadia to be a safe place. For everyone. And right now it isn’t. We have to stop ALIE before it spreads to your people.”  
  
Lexa watched her. There was logic in Clarke’s reasoning. She herself had welcomed Queen Nia into her Coalition even after Costia’s murder. Lexa saw Clarke’s passion and belief in what she said. Still.   
  
“You bargained with something that was not yours to offer, Clarke,” Lexa said not mincing her words. “I changed my people’s policy to your definition of justice. And now you are asking me to forget about justice. What makes you think my people will hold to it?”  
  
Clarke swallowed hard and fixed Lexa with a confident look. “You.”  
  
Lexa inhaled sharply and glanced away. She stepped away to the far end of the room, near the table, head bowed, hands clenched. She recognized Clarke’s bargain as a political maneuver.   
  
“You have put me in an impossible position,” she said without turning to Clarke.   
  
Clarke stepped forward but thought better of it and stood her ground.  
  
“I made the best decision at that time,” she said with conviction. She was not going to apologize. She had made a tough choice but one she thought was necessary. Lexa turned around. Clarke gave a single step towards her. “I trust you can make it work, Lexa. We can make it work,” she said with a faint smile.  
  
She held Lexa’s stare for a few moments.  
  
A knock came at the door.  
  
Lexa couldn’t help but realize Clarke’s progress since she had met her. She was turning out to be as cunning as she was. And from a strategic point, Clarke was right. Although the timing for that decision was abysmal.  
  
“Lexa,” Clarke said.  
  
Another knock. Insisting.  
  
“Not now, Clarke.” Her voice sounded a bit harsh. She winced. “Enter,” Lexa said while keeping her eyes on Clarke.  
  
Argus came in and stopped in his tracks when he saw the two women.  
  
“Heda, Wanheda” he said with a slight bow of his head, “taim don kom op.” (Heda, Wanheda, it’s time)  
  
Lexa glanced in his direction and nodded curtly. Argus took his leave.   
  
Lexa picked up her gloves from the table and headed towards Clarke. “We’ll talk later,” she said in a low voice.  
  
“Please.”  
  
Lexa smiled for a moment. A truce of sorts. But they needed to talk.   
  
“Are you coming with me?” she asked Clarke.  
  
Clarke’s smile grew as she nodded.

 

* * *

  
  
Taimi reached the outside of the main square and took refuge in the porch of an abandoned house. Her breath came in white puffs. Tonight it was going to be colder than usual. She studied the square. Her eyes fixated on for a moment at the other side. It was the shortest way back to the safe house. But the square was not deserted.  
  
Two Azgeda warriors sat near a bonfire. The soft breeze carried their drunken voices and laughter to her as they celebrated Ontari’s ascension. Her eyes darted to the three crosses that stood in the center. Taimi saw three people bound spreadeagled to them by their feet and hands, heads bowed in defeat. She couldn’t tell if they were still alive or not. They were still. Too still. They must have been up there for hours, she thought with rising anger.  
  
Voices came from somewhere behind her, down the street.  
  
Safely hidden in the shadows, she snapped her head in their direction. An Azgeda patrol had just turned the corner and entered her street. They were both carrying torches while checking the houses.  
  
“ _Jok_ ,” she muttered under her breath as she shot another look at the square. The voices behind her were growing louder. She needed to get out of there. If she could take the street that opened up to the left she could get around the square. No choice. Stealing a glance behind her, she tiptoed to the intersection and slithered around the corner using the shadows, keeping her body pressed against the wall and praying the guards in the square were with their backs towards her and too drunk to notice any movement.   
  
She quickened her pace along the wall. The guards were talking in hushed voices. A single laughter echoed in the square. They were too busy celebrating.  
  
Taimi hurried into the street and stole a glance back. They hadn’t noticed. Letting out a sigh of relief, she rushed to the next intersection and turned to the right, zigzagging along the street, always staying in the dark. Her eyes darting nervously to the doors, paying attention to every detail that might alert her. After several yards, the street made a turn to the left.   
  
She stopped in her tracks. The houses had no porches and only one part on the left side of the street was in darkness. Four bins laid nearby. Probably filled with the garbage from the surrounding houses. If she ventured into that street, she would be too exposed. She glanced back, hesitating. She could still find another way. I don’t have the time, she decided.  
  
Her body buzzing with energy, she came out onto the street and walked with a brisk pace, keeping her body to the left side. She tried to keep her breathing under control while turning her head every so often, checking up and down the street.  
  
Her eyes zeroed in on the next intersection up ahead. Almost there.   
  
A door to the right opened up a few yards ahead. An Azgeda warrior emerged with his back to her.  
  
Taimi rushed to the darkened patch of the street, pressing her body against the wall.  
  
The warrior hovered in the threshold. He let a small bag fall on the ground just outside the door. Taimi’s eyes flicked from the bag to the warrior’s back. Why was he—? Her eyes widened as realization sunk in.  
  
The man entered the house again, leaving the door ajar.   
  
Taimi gaged the distance to the other end of the street. No. He’d see me, she thought. She pulled her knife from the sheath in her thigh. She crossed the street and hurried over to the door, keeping her body pressed to the wall.   
  
Just as she was about to reach the house, the Azgeda warrior emerged carrying another bag.  
  
Their eyes locked for a second.  
  
Taimi lunged at him, knife in hand. The movements came easily after hours of training. She deflected his punch with her left forearm. She sunk the blade into his stomach. The man grunted and froze in pain, staring at her. Taimi pulled the knife and traced an upward diagonal. The man let out a whoosh of air, dropping the bag in his hand. She turned her hand and sliced the man’s throat, kicking him in the left knee that crunched and buckled. The man lost footing and Taimi shoved him into the house.  
  
The man crumbled into the floor, flat on his back. Still.  
  
Taimi rushed outside, grabbed the two bags and threw them inside the house. One of the opened up as it hit the floor. Trinkets and some food. But something else caught her attention. A dark form on the floor, near a bracelet.   
  
She stepped closer, knife firmly clasped in her hand, heart in her throat. She let her eyes get used to the relative darkness of the house. The body of a woman lied on the ground. Her eyes staring into empty space.  
  
“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she murmured as she closed the woman’s eyes.  
  
She turned to the Azgeda warrior. Blood poured out of the gash in his throat. His eyes were fixed to the ceiling. His chest rose and fell erratically.   
  
Taimi growled as a wave of pure anger consumed her. She knelt beside him. His eyes flicked in her direction, almost hopeful. Begging.  
  
Taimi stared him back. She could end his agony. Instead, she slowly wiped the blade clean on his clothes, and stood up, sheathing her knife. “Filth,” she spat, kicking him in the legs. The man made a gurgling sound, choking on his own blood.  
  
Taimi peeked out the door. The street was deserted. She scurried out, closing the door behind her.    
  
  


* * *

  
  
Titus’s eyes caressed the familiar contours and shapes in the dark room. He had set everything in motion. He had taken care of all the details he could think of. Very little had been left to chance. He let out a sigh, saddened to have to come to this point. Saddened he was the only one to blame.  
  
He looked to his right. Two bowls laid nearby containing red and black pigments. He dipped his finger in the black bowl and carefully traced a line across his chest just above his nipples.  
  
“ _Ai laik yu gona,_ ”  he murmured with a reverent voice.  
  


* * *

  
  
The shadows moved away and the steps grew weaker as the patrol walked away from their position. The light from beneath the door grew dim until the hallway outside was left once more in darkness.  
  
The two Fleimgona hurried silently over to the corner of the room. They knelt quietly in front of the candle and removed the backpacks. The candlelight barely lit their faces. The Lead Fleimgona placed the two small tins at each side of the candle. With swift movements, they opened their shirts revealing their torsos.   
  
They dipped their fingers in the black pigment and drew the same black line than Titus.  
  
“ _Ai laik yu gona_ ,” they said almost in unison.  
  
The Lead Fleimgona dipped his finger in the second bowl.

 

* * *

  
  
The tips of his finger came red. Titus drew a crimson line that slowly traveled down Titus’ chest coming almost all they way down to his navel, dipping his finger now and then.  
  
“Ai tai chada op kom jus,” Titus said with a solemn expression as he dipped his finger again and traced the holy symbol using the red line as the intersection for the emblem. He closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head. Praying. Repenting.  
  
He took a deep breath and, opening his eyes, let it out slowly. He clothed himself back, hiding the symbols on his body. He bowed, his head almost touching the floor.  
  


* * *

  
  
Her feet softly padded the floor. Ontari came out of the bathroom half dressed.  
  
“Hurry up,” she ordered as she made her way over to the table. An assortment of fruits of varied colors filled the tray. Her hand floated over it as she tried to recognize some of the fruits. She ignored Queen Nia’s favorite —  grapefruit from the _Yujleda_   — and picked an apple. She took a bite, enjoying the crispness and slightly sweet taste. She hefted the fruit in her hand as she chew the juicy pulp.  
  
The servant hurried into the room, carrying a vest and a trench coat. She left the coat on the couch, and held the vest, glancing nervously at Ontari. Waiting for a sign.   
  
Ontari hid a smirk reveling in the intimidating effect she had on the woman. Her new position had granted her a power she had feared all her life. Now that power was hers to do as she pleased. It was liberating. It set her free.  
  
She extended one of her arms and feigned impatience. The maid hurried over to help her dress, keeping her head down. Ontari’s eyes gleamed at the sudden idea. She fixed her eyes on the servant and waited. She was in a playful mood.  
  
With trembling hands, the maid tugged the fabric and stole an anxious glance at her. Ontari’s eyes took on a dangerous predatory glint. The maid blinked rapidly, flushing, surprised at being caught. Swallowing hard, the maid bowed her head again and focused her attention on the attire. In her haste and nervousness, she dropped the fastener. The soft clinking sound seemed to echo in the room.  
  
The woman froze completely and went pale. She lowered her shaky hands cautiously. Her neck almost disappeared into her shoulders. The head bowed. Her body trying to make itself smaller. Inoffensive. Insignificant.  
  
Hiding her amusement, Ontari let out a loud irritated huff, shooting daggers at her.  
  
“Bosh moba, Heda,” the cowing woman whispered, bowing her head then even more so. “ _Moba_.”   
  
Ontari didn’t say anything, dragging the silence. Letting the maid’s fears do the rest.  
  
The servant dropped to her knees and looked under the couch. She reached out feeling her way under the furniture. The woman froze for an instant and pulled her hand out, dragging another object out. A piece of paper. A drawing.  
  
The maid’s eyes grew wide. She tried to push the drawing back under the couch before Ontari could see what it was.  
  
“Give me that,” Ontari snapped in a cold voice.  
  
The woman froze for a moment before scrambling to her feet. She handed the drawing with a trembling hand, not yet daring to look at the Heda.  
  
Ontari stared at the drawing as her blood roared in her ears. She shot a seething look at the maid who gave two steps back and stood still, a fearful expression on her face. Ontari focused again on the drawing. It was a sketch. She had to admit it was a good one. The serene expression of Lexa as she slept. Her relaxed features, the book resting on her body. Hatred boiled inside her. She couldn’t get rid of her, not even in her own quarters.  
  
She came to stand next to a candle holder and held the crude paper over the flame. “Finish,” she ordered the servant without taking her eyes from the paper.  
  
The flame licked and caressed the edges of the drawing, blackening the corner. A red and yellowish spark flared up, dancing. The flame caught on.  
  
Ontari watched with mirth the flame burn the drawing, turning the paper black, twisting it as it consumed it. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the servant as she tried to fasten the attire. The servant’s glance kept flicking to the portrait. Their eyes met for an instant. The maid flinched, surprised.  
  
Ontari let out a gasp, dropped the drawing and backhanded the old woman who fell to the floor. “Yok! Be careful, you filth,” she said rubbing her chest where the fastener had pinched her skin.  
  
The woman bowed meekly on her knees. “ _Bosh moba, Heda_ ”   
  
“Get out of here!” Ontari grabbed the servant by the collar. “ _Setnes_!” she yelled as she dragged the maid to the door.  
  
The doors opened immediately. Two Azgeda warriors entered. Ontari shoved the servant towards them. The terrified woman fell into the body of one of the guards. “Get her out of my sight,” she spat with a scowl.  
  
The guard shoved the woman down the hall. “ _Sha, Heda_ ,” the other guard replied as he closed the doors.   
  
Ontari rubbed her chest again and strode in anger over to the bathroom, forgetting the drawing on the floor.   
  
The flame slowly died out, leaving Lexa’s face unscathed.

 

* * *

  
  
Roan had tuned the group out. He was growing more suspicious as time passed. A few Ambassadors had already taken their seats. The time was near. And still no sign of Titus.  
  
Everyone seemed oblivious to it. No one had noticed that the one person who should be in the room was missing. Or they were deliberately ignoring it. They were too busy gossiping about the upcoming Ascension banquet.   
  
The doors opened. Roan craned his neck, peering.  
  
Two servants came in, carrying a small stool and a tray. They hurried over to the throne and placed it within grasp of whoever sat on the throne. Roan scoffed in disgust.  
  
He moved away from the group and peeked beyond the guards posted at the door. Titus was still nowhere to be seen.  
  
He made his way to the door.  
  


* * *

  
  
The Lead Fleimgona firmly secured the knife’s sheath on his right thigh, making sure the weapon would not fall during his ascent. His companion finished securing the strapping of his sword on his back and the backpack. As impractical as it was to carry a sword on the back, it was the only way it would not hinder his movements. A small price to pay to reach their target.  
  
“ _Ogud_ ,” his companion murmured behind him, patting him on the shoulder.   
  
He turned towards his companion and gave him a curt nod. Both men moved to the window.   
  
The lead Fleimgona jumped onto the windowsill and looked down. From their position, no one on the streets would be able to see them. Below him, Polis was dotted with flickering lights. Some scattered bonfires shone brighter than others. Azgeda celebrating the ascension. He grimaced. If all went well, Ontari would not see the dawn. He looked up and examined the wall, planning an ascension route of their own. They only had the moonlight to guide them in their climb.   
  


* * *

  
  
Titus rose to his feet. It struck him then the silence that floated in the room, like an uninvited presence. This room had always been a place for reflection. A last bastion of the teachings of the first commander. A place of enlightenment. A safe haven.   
  
This new silence was nothing like that. It smothered any thoughts. It tasted sour. It smelled like death. Rotting. Decaying. Fading. He shook his head trying to dispel that mood. He needed to be focused on the task ahead.  
  
He glanced at Becca’s portrait. It was too late to undo what he had done. But he still had a chance to make it right.  
  
“ _Hofli keryon kom Heda na fleim au ona ai_ ”   
  
He picked up the ritual knife and hid it in his robes. He left the pool of candlelight and walked into the dark, towards the door. He turned around, took a final glance and left the room in silence.  
  
The candle remained as a beacon of light in the darkness.  
  


* * *

  
  
The Lead Fleimgona propelled himself and took hold of a protrusion on the facade, just above the window.   
  
He climbed, testing each nook and crevice. His breath came in gasps. His puffs of air forming small clouds. It was cold. Colder than they had anticipated. Their clothes would protect them for a while but they could not stay exposed for long. He checked his path every now and then, making sure they would reach their target. He cleared the first floor and continued his climb, watching his every move.  
  
He came to a stop between two floors. They would avoid having to step into any more rooms until they got to the floor beneath the commander’s. He glanced down and gave his companion a sign to follow him.   
  
The second Fleimgona rose to his feet on the windowsill and glanced down. They couldn’t afford a single mistake. Behind him, a flickering glow appeared under the door, growing in intensity.  
  
The Fleimgona studied at the path he had to follow, taking his time.  
  
The door rattled.  
  
He turned his head sharply towards the sound. Blood roaring in his ears. Heart going wild. He could see shadows beneath the door. His eyes flicked to the corner where they had performed the ritual.  
  
The candle was still lit. His eyes darted from the candle to the door. Calculating. They couldn’t find the candle.  
  
The door groaned on its hinges when a body pushed against it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Lexa stepped outside the station.  
  
The sun had set a while ago. The moon had taken its place although the clouds threatened to cover it. The breeze was crisp and carried a hint of rain. She hoped the ceremony would be spared for the sake of her people.  
  
Artificial lights had been fitted along the fence perimeter to increase security. Guards patrolled the fence but except for a few people huddled around a fire bin, Lexa surmised they would be on their own for the ceremony. It wouldn’t surprise her.  
  
Clarke came to stand at her side. She didn’t say anything. But the shy encouraging smile Clarke gave her offered the comfort and reassurance she needed. Their argument still resonated within her. But it was not the time to dwell on it, she thought with a sigh. Whatever their disagreements, she had come to believe she could trust Clarke more than anyone else. Clarke’s gaze shifted away from her and Lexa followed it.  
  
Argus was waiting for them. She took a deep breath and, squaring her shoulders and back, slowly walked up to him. Clarke fell into step with her.   
  
Argus lead them to a side of the station.    
  
A trail of torches had been set up around to the funeral pyre.   
  
Lexa slowed her pace, bewildered. Before her, a sizable crowd had gathered around the pyre. There were far more people than she had expected. Grounders and Skaikru together to pay their respects to Lincoln. Several guards kept a watchful eye on them from at a respectful distance.    
  
With a crease on her brow, Lexa stole a glance at Clarke, raising a questioning eyebrow.   
  
“Security,” she said in a low voice. “For your people. Just in case.”  
  
Lexa gave her an almost imperceptible nod, schooled her features into her command mask and continued up the path.  
  
As they approached the pyre, Lexa held her head high and ignored the stares directed at her, keeping her eyes focused on the place reserved for her to address her people. She carried herself with the regal confidence and determination she always had when walking into her throne room or out of her war tent and people turned up to her.   
  
She stopped at her place. As she turned, Clarke was moving away, towards her mother and Kane.  
  
“Clarke,” Lexa called her with a neutral voice. She couldn’t ask her so she made a gesture with her hand, inviting her to take a place right next to her.   
  
Clarke’s eyes shone with warmth and, without hesitation, took a position next to Lexa. Both women presiding the ceremony.   
  
Lexa’s attention was drawn to Abby who was shooting them a  look of mistrust as she said something under her breath to Kane. The man leaned towards her and exchanged a glance with Abby. He said something the Doctor didn’t like. Abby’s pursed lips and rigid stance spoke volumes.   
  
Lexa hid her surprise when she saw Raven standing next to Abby. The young woman looked a little the worse for wear. She had a blanket over her shoulders and stood weakly, leaning on Jasper. But it was her expression that got Lexa’s attention. Her interest didn’t go unnoticed. Their eyes met. Lexa saw the fire in them. Sheer absolute determination and strength. A fighter. A survivor. A force to reckon with.  
  
Her eyes swept over Skaikru’s crowd, gaging their faces and body language. Guarded expressions greeted her. Only a handful of them regarded her with certain openness. A few of them were openly hostile.   
  
Lexa’s attention went to her people, at the other side of the pyre. Survivors from Mount Weather. Locked up by Pike. They didn’t know the truth about the Flame, about the first commander. She wasn’t sure how they could react if they found out. And that was a possibility she had to contemplate because, if pushed came to shove, it would be something she might have to do herself.   
  
A figure proudly stood next to her people. Okteivia. Lincoln’s _niron_. The woman was dressed more like a Grounder than Skaikru. She stood, back rigid, her face was set in stone but her eyes… Her eyes were drowning in pain. Pain and anger. Her eyes were focused on Lincoln’s body.  
  
Lexa took a moment to gather her thoughts. A Grounder ceremony in the Skaikru camp. Six Grounders among possibly sixty or more Skaikru. The Coalition, if it could be called as such, had been reduced to an amalgam of divided Skaikru and a few Grounders. A small group in comparison with the forces Ontari could rally for war as the new Heda.   
  
Lexa gritted her teeth as her heart sank into her stomach. A wave of despondency overwhelmed her. This is where everything ends, a part of her mind suggested. The end of her people. She had failed them, leaving them at Ontari’s mercy.  
  
But she still had a responsibility. At least, until she talked to Luna.  
  
She raised her head and breathed in.  
  
“ _Skaikru en Kyongedon._ ”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translations:
> 
> Nomfa, komir -- Son, come here.  
> Noni -- Dad  
> Gon hou we, nomfa. Nou. -- Go home, son. Now.  
> Akil kom Sangedakru -- Akil from Desert Clan.  
> Gonalida -- General  
> Jok -- Fuck  
> Yu gonplei ste odon -- Your fight is over.  
> Ai laik yu gona -- I am your warrior.  
> Ai tai chada op kom jus -- I bind myself in blood.  
> Yujleda -- Broadleaf  
> Bosh moba, Heda -- My apologies, Heda.  
> Moba -- Sorry  
> Setnes -- Guards  
> Ogud -- Ready.  
> Hofli keryon kom Heda na fleim au ona ai -- May the spirit of the Commander burn within me  
> Niron -- Lover  
> Skaikru en Kyongedon -- Skypeople and Grounders


End file.
